


Baby, I'm Perfect

by make_this_feel_like_home



Series: Something Great [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Photographer Harry, Songwriter Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:32:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 146,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/make_this_feel_like_home/pseuds/make_this_feel_like_home
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All things considered, the guy that Louis meets from an online dating site really isn't bad...but there's an almost immediate problem with the whole thing: enter Harry Styles. He's aloof, rude and has more emotional baggage than anyone would sign up for--aside from Louis Tomlinson. Harry loves his life exactly how it is, where he is a working photographer, notorious fan of one-nightstands and isn't ready for anyone to waltz in and change that. There's also the simple problem that Harry hates every single thing about Louis--especially the parts he likes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This story has one pathetic attempt at Lilo at the beginning, but admittedly my heart is not in it--but neither are theirs.

**_Louis_ **

I was sitting in the middle of what I was sure was the busiest coffee shop in all of London. There was some woman with a Chihuahua in her purse at the table next to mine. Surely she was violating some kind of hygiene law, but no one seemed bothered. I could hear some woman across the room recounting her wild night out to one of her friends. I sighed and smoothed my hair nervously, keeping my eyes on the door.

I wasn't even sure why I was there. It was all so foolish. I had a great life. At only 24, I had an apartment that I was able to afford on my own--albeit quite messy, but I was _going_ to deal with that—an amazing career that actually made me happy and a giant family that loved me and tried desperately to care for me.

And that's how I'd ended up in this crowded coffee shop. I had stopped focusing on my social life. Yeah, it had been awhile since I'd been on a date, but I was focusing on my career first. I figured that was pretty normal, but half way through a box of wine last week, my sister, Lottie, had made me an online dating profile. She'd been so damned insistent, that for some reason I had listened to her. She wanted the best for me in her own horribly pushy way. Now I was stuck in some coffee shop I'd never been to before, waiting for some guy who may or may not show up. By this point in my online dating career, I was questioning almost everything. My own profile was fairly honest, minus the lack of mention of my many short-comings, but who's to say that this guy’s would be the same?

His name was (allegedly) Liam. He was (apparently) a cruise ship singer and (supposedly) loved to work out. He liked similar music to me and had a dog. I was skeptical to say the least. His profile was one of the only ones on the site that stated he wanted a relationship. Everyone else wanted cheap hook ups, which a few years ago would have been just fine, but now I was pretty sure I was past that. I wanted something real.

Liam and I had exchanged numbers and had been texting for a few days now. I was half excited to meet him, and in typical Louis Tomlinson fashion, half prepared to be utterly disappointed. I heard the chime ring over the door and looked up. It was him. I watched as he scanned the room for me. God. How disappointing must it have been to see me in person. I was tiny and short and not a show-stopper by any means, but Liam smiled anyway when he saw me. I stood up as Liam arrived at the table and to my surprise, he pulled me in for a friendly hug.

"Did you order a drink yet?” Liam asked conversationally.

I shook my head, feeling awkward, but not particularly nervous. Liam had a calm poise about him.

“Well, what’ll be? Espresso, cappuccino, latte?” Liam's smile was soft and easy.

“Just tea with milk,” I said, my choice in caffeine was admittedly tame and bland.

Liam smiled and walked to the counter to order the drinks. I took a minute to take stock of the situation. Liam was very good looking and clearly took great care of himself. He was muscular and his hair was perfect. His personality was very level and chivalrous from what I'd seen. I could think of exactly zero things about him so far that were negative, and yet I'd somehow managed to feel exactly nothing. I chalked it up to being my fault. Most things were. I wasn't really normal in any way, so why would dating be any different? Here was a perfect man served up on a platter to me and yet, I didn't even manage to feel even the tiniest spark.

Maybe I just needed time. Maybe he would grow on me. Maybe there was still hope for me out there. Maybe I could suddenly become a reasonable human being.

Liam joined me at the table a few moments later, wearing a light grin. He slid my tea across the table and met my eyes.

“So you're a song writer?” He prompted, “I'm thinking that must be a pretty fun job,”

I nodded quickly, “it's the perfect job, honestly. It's not really a ‘job’ at all.” I mused. “What about you? It must be amazing to see the world on cruise ships,”

Liam laughed at bit at that, “I get so incredibly seasick you wouldn't even believe it. It's complete torture most of the time,”

I laughed at that, “So, let me get this straight, you're a cruise ship singer for a living, but you don't actually like being on a boat? Yeah, that seems like something that will work out long-term,”

My sarcasm was dry and a bit much for most people, but Liam only faltered a second before he caught onto it, “well, I'm obviously going to be a famous pop star soon, so I'm not gonna be at it much longer,” he winked at me, “Maybe You'll be writing songs for me one day,”

Liam's phone started to ring. He glanced down at it and pressed the ‘ignore’ button.

“you could answer it, you know. I won't be that offended,” I said.

Liam chuckled brightly, “that was my ‘in case this guy’s a nutjob’ roommate courtesy call,”

“You ignored it,” I commented. “does that mean I passed the nutjob test?”

"Considering we’ve made it a full 10 minutes without you trying to grab my dick and you haven't started to tell me about the 14 birds you have at home, yes. But admittedly my expectations aren't nearly as high as they were before the last few dates.”

I laughed, “So online dating is just as bad as I made it out to be.”

“Oh 100%,” said Liam.

“So do I take what you said as a compliment or an insult to all men in London?”

Liam tapped his chin, pretending to be thinking. “I say the former. Take the compliment and let's take these drinks to go. There's a great park around the corner and my dog is tied up outside. Come meet her,”

Liam was really very easy to talk to, and I found that spending time with him was really quite nice. We had a lot of similarities, and he was very good looking. I wished I could have cared a bit more about the good looking part, but maybe if we kept having such good conversation, I would learn to appreciate the full picture a bit more.

…

Hours later, i was seated on the carpet in Liam's flat. It was tiny, but well kept. Liam had set up a game of scrabble on the coffee table and was in the kitchen making tea. Lottie would have been proud if she knew I had spent the entire day with one of the online dating prospects. Liam was fantastic. He was easy to get along with and very nice. He was a proper host and he had doted on me for most of the day.

I heard the door to the apartment open, and I looked up to see a blonde young man walk in. He pulled off his shoes and hung up his coat and called out to Liam before he even noticed me sitting on the living room floor in front of the scrabble board.

“Oh, hi!” he said, marching over to me. He reached out his hand and I took it quickly and smiled up at him. “I'm Niall,” he said in a thick Irish accent.

“Louis,” I responded.

I looked behind Niall as another young man walked into the apartment. He was tall and lean and very well dressed. He wore tight jeans and very fashionable ankle boots. My gaze made its way up from his shoes to his face and I took in his perfectly angled features. He had long hair that he wore tied back into a bun. His green eyes were bright and easy to see, even across the room. He was shockingly handsome. Not in the same ways as Liam, but in a much more restrained sort of way. Like he didn't really understand how good looking he was. He glanced at me momentarily and I tore my gaze away, an unsettling feeling sinking into my gut.

Liam exited the kitchen with two tea cups in his hand. He nodded at the mystery man and walked over to me, handing me a mug. I nodded my thanks and Liam sat down across from me at the coffee table.

  
“I see you've met my flatmate, Niall,” he said, not breaking eye contact with me. I wasn't really sure what Liam was feeling. He was kind and great at making me feel important, but was my personality really charming him? We're we meshing well in his eyes?

He gestured to the boy in the skinny jeans who was pulling off his boots. “That's Niall's best mate Harry,” Liam said, but Harry seemed oblivious. He didn't so much as look my way. He nodded to Liam and walked toward one of the bedrooms.

Niall shrugged at me, “Harry isn't the biggest social butterfly you'll ever meet. We’re going to play some ps4,” he told Liam and Liam nodded.

“Well, Louis and I have some beer if you two are interested in playing some drunken scrabble later on.”

Niall grinned and looked at me, “Yeah, I'm totally down, it'll just take me a little while to convince Styles,”

Niall walked toward his room and then turned around momentarily. “He's cute,” he told Liam, winking.

Liam's poise faltered for only a moment and I saw a quick blush take over his face. He shooed Niall away with a flick of his wrist and I watched as Niall shut the door behind himself.

I looked over to Liam, who had almost recovered from the blush. “So I'm cute,” I prompted, seeing the blush return in the same way I expected it to. I chuckled lightly. “Niall seems nice. What the deal with his boyfriend though?” Harry had been so cold. I found myself fascinated by him, despite the fact that I had the perfect date across from me.

Liam shrugged, “I don't know what Harry's deal is. He's kind of aloof a lot of the time. But he's not Niall’s boyfriend. Niall’s straight actually.”

I nodded, trying desperately not to make the fact that Harry wasn't dating Liam's flatmate matter to me, because by rights I should have been completely impartial.

....

After wasting half the evening playing scrabble with Liam, I had learned a few things. One was that Liam was just as honest with board games as he seemed to be in life. And second, that he really didn't like the fact that I had an unmistakable passion for cheating. He put up with me like a gentleman, but I sensed that I was bothering him. All of Liam's words were perfectly appropriate and easily defined within Webster's dictionary, where as my words were constantly up for debate. I was much cheekier with Liam than maybe he enjoyed, but he tolerated me.

When Niall and Harry finally came out of his room, I sensed that Liam was happy to have a buffer against my constant cheating. Liam moved to sit next to me and Harry sat opposite me. He refused to meet my eyes, and I tried not to be offended. Niall brought us all a beer and Liam and I reset the game and he handed tiles to Niall and Harry.

“Now, lads, I'll warn you now that Louis thinks it's okay to invent new words based on the letters he has. This is absolutely not a legitimate rule, so I'm gonna need you two to have my back on this,” announced Liam, nudging me playfully with his shoulder.

I smiled and I heard Niall laugh, but Harry's face remained stony. Did he even want to play scrabble, or had Niall talked him into it?

We played the game well, and as the beers started to disappear even Liam began to accept my non-traditional word choices. We were having fun. Niall had the most contagious laugh I'd ever heard and I found myself cracking up at just the sound of his laughter. Liam and I were more and more similar the further we got into our drinks. He was much more fun now that he had his friends around to loosen him up and a few beers to break the ice. I felt his hand crawl lightly across my thigh. God, did I want to feel more, but I couldn't stop staring at the only person in the room who looked like he wasn't having a good time. He barely even laughed at Niall's hilarious jokes.

"What do you do for a living, anyway?” Niall asked me.

“I write songs,” I said, still chucking from the last word Liam had placed on the board (cunt--which he insisted was Niall's all time favourite)

“Oh really?” Asked Niall, seemingly genuinely interested, “anything I've heard of?”

“Umm, the only one that's on the radio at the moment is 'No Control',”

“Oh!” Exclaimed Liam and Niall at the same time.

And for the first time that night, Harry addressed words directly to me.

“Really?” He sounded annoyed, “that song is your fault? It's a bit obnoxious, don't you think? I mean who writes a song about being a loaded gun? I don't know, just seems a bit much to me.”

Liam and Niall both stared at Harry like he'd just broken some cardinal rule that neither Harry nor myself had ever heard of. Instead of offended, I felt challenged. It wasn't so much a bad feeling, I mean admittedly, the song was obnoxious and forward. Harry wasn't wrong in saying it.

Louis shrugged, “Yeah, I suppose it's a bit forward. It's fun though.” I countered.

Harry's gaze wasn't eye-contact so much as it was an icy glare, “that’s a matter of opinion.” He said matter-of-factly.

I could tell that Liam and Niall wanted to make Harry shut up, but I wasn't angry. I was intrigued by this stranger’s opinion of me. Being in the music industry meant that I heard a lot of criticism. I was used to it, but additionally, now that's I'd cemented myself I was far less used to hearing critics. Normally I was surrounded by people who told me what I wanted to hear and who respected my opinion. I liked the way Harry challenged me, even if he was recklessly abrasive about it.

“And, so what _is_ your opinion. What could I have done right?”

I was suddenly more interested in Harry's unapologetic opinion of me than I was Liam's hand on my thigh. In fact, I completely forgot his hand was there at all. Distaste burned in Harry's green eyes, but I wasn't deterred. I just wanted to know more. What was Harry so angry about? Was he like this to everyone, or did he just not especially like me? I had a big personality. I'd come to accept that over the years. I was just as blunt as Harry was being, and my sarcasm was cutting at times. There were reasons not to like me that I could understand, but I found myself wanting to challenge that. I wanted to make Harry like me. I didn't really know why aside from the fact that I could never turn down a good challenge.

“Nothing,” he said, tilting back the last mouthful of beer into his mouth. “You're probably beyond saving at this point.”

I wasn't able to control it. I was in Liam's apartment. Liam's hand was on my thigh. I'd spent the day getting to know him, but Harry had muscled his way in and I was significantly more interested in winning him over, though he showed no interest in being won over.

 


	2. Two

**Harry**

I took stock of the things I knew. It had been quite a long time since I'd seen Liam with someone. So long, in fact, that I couldn't even remember who the last guy had been. Was it Rich? Or brad? I couldn't recall, so I partly understood how he felt. He was probably lonely. I got that—it wasn't that hard to understand. What was hard to understand, however, was why Liam felt the need to drag _this_  guy back with him. The online dating pool must have been getting more shallow by the minute.

Maybe I was being too volatile, but there was _something_ about this guy. Everything about him made me rage. I wanted to be able to enjoy the night with Liam and Niall like normal but this cocky eye-sore was taking up all of my attention span. Nearly every single detail about him bothered me on a molecular level. I could literally feel my body being repelled by his.

We were playing a game of scrabble. It wasn't really worth a whole lot of thought or effort, but he was bossing everyone around. It enraged me. Scrabble barely required an attention span— _let alone_ some control freak, wannabe songwriter ordering everyone around.

Which brings me to my next point—that song. I can't believe that I was actually sat in the same room as the person responsible for that garbage. I mean, yes it was catchy, but the words? They were so sleazy and tacky, but now that I was face to face with this Louis guy? I understood why the song sounded so cheap. This Louis fellow _was_ cheap and sleazy.

As I watched Louis from across the table, I knew my disdain was obvious on my face, but I couldn't wipe it away. It was just a natural reaction to being so close to such a repellent. He repulsed me. The way he spoke was annoying, mostly because he was totally convinced he was hilarious, but also because that accent! Where was he even from? I felt my lip curl in disgust as I saw Liam touch his arm softly as he laughed at one of his jokes. What was wrong with Liam? Was he deaf? Blind? Stupid? _Desperate_? Even if I'd have been all of the above, I would not have touched this guy with a 10 foot pole.

“So what do you do? He addressed the question to Niall.

  
“Actually I play golf professionally,”

  
Louis made a surprised expression and nodded, “no way.” He said, “and you actually make a legitimate taxable income with that?”

God, this guy was rude. Who asked questions like that?

  
For some unknown reason, Niall laughed at Louis’ obvious social disgrace. And another thing—what was with that name? Louis? He wasn't French, so the only logical answer was that he must have been from some pretentious family. I made a mental note to call him Lewis sometime, just to piss him off.

Louis— _Lewis_ ’ gaze fell on me and his stupid thin lips pulled back and spewed words at me.

  
“What about you, Harry?” He said

  
“What about me?” I didn't actually want to speak to him, so I was annoyed that he'd addressed dialogue to me and left me no choice but to respond.

  
Liam shot me a glare that told me I was being just as rude as I'd intended. “He's asking you what your job is, you wanker,” snapped Liam.

  
I looked right into Louis' eyes this time, making deliberate eye contact. I noticed then that he had blue eyes. What was the big deal about blue eyes anyway? Everyone was always so crazy about them. I wasn't surprised that Louis would have let another over-rated feature.

  
“I'm a photographer,” I spat, staring directly into the depths of his oceanic eyes. “And, yes, I _do_ actually make a taxable income at that.”

Louis laughed—genuinely sat across from me and produced the joyful sound like I wasn't trying my hardest to deter him. I felt like a kitten with anger issues. Like I was just so fucking cute that he didn't take my anger seriously.

This, of course, only made me more angry.

“So who do you photograph for?” He spoke to me like this was some sort of real conversation. Like I had an interest in sharing details of my life with him. 

“Magazines,” I said, getting to my feet. Louis was paying far too much attention to me. I walked swiftly to the washroom and closed the door behind me.

When I looked into the mirror, I saw a person I really didn't recognize. I didn't always look so miserable, but it seemed like someone had chiseled out my frown lines. I pulled my hair out of its bun and watched as my curls fell to my shoulders. I wished I had have decided to just stay at home tonight. I hoped that Liam would get over Louis quickly. I cared about my friends, but I didn't know how much longer I could go on listening to Louis brag about the people he'd met and the places he'd been. It was draining.

  
When I exited the bathroom, Niall was sitting alone at the table. He looked up to me and raised an eye brow. I looked and saw Liam and Louis standing together on the balcony smoking. Yet another strike against him. Smoking was a disgusting, classless habit. And I only overlooked the fact that Liam did it because I had no intent of ever sleeping with or dating him.

“So who pissed on your cornflakes this morning?” Asked Niall, his expression curious.  

  
I shrugged, sitting on the couch and grabbing another beer.

  
Niall watched me carefully. “I don't get what your deal is today. Are you secretly in love with Liam? Is this some kind of weird jealously thing or are you just in the mood to be an ass?”

  
I shrugged again, “just in the mood, I suppose.”

  
Niall's eyes didn't leave me, like he was expecting me to say something more.

  
“ _What_ ,” I snapped.

  
Niall shrugged and took a sip of his beer, covering a smirk that threatened to break through.

  
“what!” I cried, hating how vague Niall was being.

  
He could never hold back a laugh, and when it escaped I wanted to strangle him. “It's not Liam, is it?” He said.

  
I slammed my bottle on the table, “I have no clue what you're even talking about, but please spit it the hell out!”

  
“Louis,” he said, a stupid grin on his face. “You fancy him.”

  
I rubbed my hand across my forehead in exasperation. “How much did you have to drink?” I asked, “that might actually be the most disgusting thing you've ever suggested to me.”

  
He laughed again, as though he honestly thought he might have been correct. “I could be wrong, but he seems like your type.”

  
“My _type_?” I hissed, “and when the hell have you ever seen me on a date that would ever give you a clue what my type might even be?”

  
Niall shrugged, getting to his feet. “You're right. I haven't seen you on a date. Maybe that's why you're so cranky.”

I couldn't believe what a little shit Niall was being. He was spewing the most ridiculous crap I'd ever heard. If had put in an effort, he could not have been more off the mark. I couldn't even have tried to give a shit about Louis. My _type_? Anger built inside of me. I barely had a type, but I could certainly assure anyone that Louis was most definitely not that type. I liked strong men. Men who took control. Someone tall and dark and handsome, thanks very much, and Louis was none of those things. He didn't get fashion, at least not judging by his skinny jeans, t-shirt and jumper. He was _short_ and I mean bordering on midget. How could I ever even try to be attracted to that? He was too tiny to control, to be the sort of person I'd even consider.

Niall was supposed to be my best friend, but he seemed perfectly clueless. He knew I didn't date. Everyone knew I didn't date. I didn't have interest in trying to be attached to one person when I could just as easily get what I wanted from a few acquaintances and forge all my close relationships with friends whom I knew would never leave. Relationships weren't only risky, they were repulsive. I couldn't imagine the boredom of waking up next to the same person every day. Having to report to them before leaving, having to make plans with them and only them night after night. It turned my stomach. Why would I let someone gain my trust for months, maybe even _years_ only to have them walk away and take half my stuff? I'd watched time and time again as relationships of people I knew crumbled around them. I'd learned much earlier on in life than most, that the most obvious place to put trust was in someone like Niall. He would never hurt me because he was my friend. Plus, whenever someone gets murdered, the first place they look is their spouse. That was all the proof I needed to know I'd never be one of _those_ people.

  
What I found strange, was all of these facts had always been easy for me to see, but every single other person I knew was willing to take the risks. Niall always had girlfriends. My own mother had been married multiple times. My sister dated, my whole network dated. Liam was on a date right now. Even this pathetic Louis guy wanted a relationship. It was beyond me why everyone was willing to take these risks.

I got up from the couch to get myself a beer. As I walked toward the kitchen I glanced out the patio door and saw Liam and Louis on the balcony. A feeling I didn't recognize sunk into my gut. I suppose it was dread, or horror or a new level of disgust that I hadn't experienced yet. Liam was kissing Louis. Like _really_ kissing him. He bent down to his short little face and I actually saw his tongue moving inside of Louis’ mouth. It was repulsive. Liam could have done so much better. Their kiss ended and Louis looked toward the door then. His eyes met mine momentarily before I looked away and darted for the kitchen.

Gross. I'd just seen way too much. Even the prospect of more beer couldn't salvage this evening. Niall was in the kitchen mixing something stronger.

  
“I'll take one of those too,” I said, pointing to his glass of whiskey and ginger.

  
He smiled and handed me the drink, grabbing another glass from the cupboard. He started to mix a new drink.

  
“God, Liam has no standards,” I said as Niall filled his glass halfway with whiskey.

  
“Louis seems like a cool guy.” Niall said.

  
“You're a horrible judge of character, though” I commented.

  
“I guess you're right, after all, you are my best friend,”

  
“Ha. Ha.” I said dryly.

  
I watched as Niall made his drink and took a long sip of my own.

  
“You're jealous, Harry. You don't know how to deal with it because it's never happened before, but I see it.”

  
“Jealous of what exactly,”

  
“Liam. You're jealous that Louis is here with _him_ and not you.”

  
I rolled my eyes, “I don't even know why I bother talking to you sometimes.”

  
“It must really kill you when I'm right.” Niall held up his glass and clinked it against Harry's. “Here's to a brand new Harry Styles. One who's finally interested in dating.”

  
I made a gagging gesture and pretended to vomit, but Niall just laughed. The deluded idiot actually thought he was right.


	3. Three

**Louis**

I started to walk toward my flat. Lots of things were on my mind. Liam and I had kissed. I'd drank a very healthy amount of beer and my head was spinning from it. Liam was a cruise ship singer and his roommate was a pro golfer? Nothing really made sense.

But the thing that made the least amount of sense was Harry. It was all I could think about. I was trying really hard not to. I was trying to think about what it had been like to kiss Liam. I was trying to remember the fact that _Liam_  was the reason I'd been at that apartment all night. I really did like him. And if Harry hadn’t have shown up, I probably would have liked him even more. But Harry was…. Strange. He was cold. He very clearly did not want my attention, but I found I wasn't able to control it. All I was able to think about was the cutting tone of his voice.

I forced myself to think about Liam. He was great. He was smart, funny and…calculated. He was a lot like me, but also very different. I sensed that he held back what he really thought a lot to spare other people's feelings. This was a trait I had never had. I was always honest. People loved it or hated it. I sensed that that Harry probably hated it, but I could probably fix it. I didn't give up easily. I worked hard for the things I wanted.

  
_LIAM_.

  
I wrestled with my subconscious. I didn't even have a train of thought; it was more of a direct flight to Harry. It was annoying to say the least. I really wanted to care for Liam. Why didn't I care more about the sweet and gentile way Liam as kissed me? Why didn't I want more?

  
God it had been so long since I'd been on the dating scene that I really didn't have a clue. The night had been fun. That much I could confirm. Liam was surrounded by intriguing people. Niall was funny and before the end of the night, he had pulled out his guitar and we'd all—except for Harry—sang an awful cover of my own song. Harry had aired his grievances for almost every line of the song, but for some reason, I'd found it hilarious. Harry desperately wanted to rip me to shreds, and I couldn't decide whether I found it adorable, sexy, or if I just wanted to let him tear me apart.

  
_LIAM_.

  
Liam had treated me like a proper gentleman. Even when he'd gotten proper drunk, he'd tried to take care of me. He'd offered to get me a cab. He'd walked me to the elevator and kissed me on the cheek before I left. I knew that I was pretty lucky to have someone as smart and good looking as Liam pay attention to me. Plenty of other guys would have jumped to be in my place, and I liked him. Spending time with him was great. He was interesting and great fun to drink with.

But I felt like something was missing.

…

 

When the weekend finally came around again, Liam requested that I join him at his flat for a party that Saturday. Throughout the week, I had seen him a few times. We hadn't moved beyond kissing, and to be honest, I really didn't mind. On paper, Liam and I seemed a great match. Objectively, when I viewed him I knew he was sexy, but when he kissed me goodbye, it seemed to get more and more awkward. I was trying really hard to be into it, but it just felt flat. I liked spending time with him, and I felt like opening up to him. I told him things I didn't picture ever talking to someone about. I just figured that maybe the rest of it could come with time.

  
I also did not want to admit that a very large part of me only wanted to go to the party because I figured Harry would be there. I was in touch with myself enough to know that Harry was exactly the sort of guy I went for. He was gorgeous beyond comparison. Liam was strong and sexy and he smoldered next to me, but Harry's appeal was much less intense. Liam and I were so alike… I didn't see how we could mesh. Liam was a leader, I was a leader, but Harry? Harry begged to be led.

It was all so wrong. I was awful for just thinking about someone other than Liam, let alone someone who was his good friend. Harry was very obviously avoiding me all night, and I found that it was all I could think about. He stayed on the balcony until Liam and I went out for a cigarette and then darted back inside in the least subtle way I'd ever seen. He didn't want to be within 100 meters of me, and I wanted to be wherever he was. It was doomed.

Or was it? I felt pretty confident that I could change his opinion.

Liam wrapped his arm around my hip as we stared over the balcony. I'd never been much a fan of being held. It bothered me a bit that Liam wanted to make all the moves on me, because it was typically my position. I didn't know how to be the submissive, coy one.

  
“so, I ship out in 2 weeks,” Liam said, “back to reality. I've been off for nearly a month.” He explained.

  
I nodded, “Where are you going this time?”

  
Liam shrugged. “Greenland, Iceland, Newfoundland, Canada mostly.”

  
“how long is it?”

  
“10 agonizing days of bad weather, sea sickness and not to mention it's a seniors cruise.” He made a horrified face.

  
I chuckled. “So you're going to be singing Frank Sinatra's greatest hits?”

  
Liam laughed, “I'm not even going to show you my set list. It's embarrassing for everyone involved. Seniors love dreaming about the Copacabana.”

  
I held up my hand and laughed, despite myself, “I've heard enough.” I joked.

  
We were quiet for a moment. Silence with Liam was comfortable. I felt like he understood me. Earlier that day I'd played him one of the songs I was working on. He'd contributed. I didn't really work with other people much, so id been shocked to see how well Liam meshed into my professional life.

I tried to imagine what I would be like for the 10 days he'd be gone. I would miss him, definitely, but there was something much more pressing about the matter; Harry. It was stupid of me to think because a) Liam would come back to London and I'd probably see Harry again when he did and b) while he was gone there was probably no way I'd ever convince Harry to hang out with me anyway and c) it was wildly inappropriate to be so obsessed with a guy who was definitely not Liam. It was rude and unfair of me. Liam deserved my attention. He deserved for me to miss him while he was gone. He was the one I was seeing after all.

“Louis,” he said quietly.

  
“Mm,” I said, still lost in the thought of not seeing Harry for what seemed like the longest time period ever.

  
Liam seemed like he was tip-toeing around what he wanted to say, “I think you and I should try writing songs together.”

  
I nodded, because he was probably right. We seemed to vibe well, and hanging out with him was genuinely enjoyable.

  
He sighed next to me and flicked the butt of his cigarette over the balcony. “I want to talk to you about something,” he said.

  
Oh god. He was getting serious. For the first time since meeting Liam, I felt butterflies.

 

“Shoot,” I said trying to mask the cold feeling in my gut.

  
“I really like you…” He trailed off.

  
“But,” I prompted.

  
“It's not really a 'but',” he said, pushing his hair back, “I just feel like… Maybe we just don't have that spark. Don't take it the wrong way. You're an awesome lad. I love hanging out with you—it just doesn't feel romantic. Like, you're so forward, and I just feel awkward most of the time trying to make moves.” He sighed again, looking at me. “Am I wrong?"

  
I shook my head, “actually, no. I have not actually felt as close to anyone as I do to you in so long, but the dating stuff feels wrong. Like you should just be my best mate or something,”

  
Liam exhaled and pretended to wipe the sweat off his forehead, “I really hope I didn't make everything awkward by saying that, because I actually really do want to keep hanging out with you.”

  
I clapped him on the back, “it's not awkward at all, actually, it's kind of a relief. I thought there was something wrong with me. I couldn't figure out why I didn't want to sleep with you. I'm glad it's not just me.”

  
“So when I get home, all withered and sea sick, from this cruise, you're still gonna want to hang out, yeah?”

  
I nodded as I lit up another cigarette.

Liam had just given me the best news of the night. I'd been so concerned that there was something wrong with me. Everything had been going so well with Liam, and yet I'd effectively felt nothing. The spark that he spoke of, It really didn't exist between us, but I did enjoy everything about him, otherwise.

  
Of course the first place my annoying brain went was to Harry. Now that Liam and I had decided to give up on the prospect of a relationship with each other, how long had to pass before it was rude of me to ask out his friend? More specifically, his friend that couldn't stand the sight of me. I chuckled internally because the whole thing was pretty funny.

Liam and I went back inside after a few more minutes. We began to probably both drink too much. I was starting to feel pretty drunk by the time I noticed that Harry had ducked out, yet again. I searched the room for him, and finally I saw him. Harry was standing alone on the balcony. My feet moved before I really thought about it. I pushed open the door and saw the familiar disdain in Harry's eyes. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cigarettes. Harry looked at me with disgust.

  
“I can't even believe you smoke. You know how gross that is, right?”

  
“No, actually.” I challenged him. He couldn't just walk away if I gave him an opening. “Enlighten me,”

  
He grumbled under his breath, “kissing a smoker is like licking an ashtray,”

  
I stared directly into Harry's bright green eyes, “and do you make a point to lick a lot of ashtrays?” I raised my eyebrow at him.

  
He curled his lip, “I don't make a point of kissing people with bad habits, if that's what you're getting at.”

  
I was feeling bold, “and who _do_  you make a point of kissing?" I didn't know the first thing about Harry, but I wanted to know every last thing.

  
He chose to ignore my question. “Cigarettes give you bad breath.”

  
I took out a pack of gum and popped one in my mouth. I chewed it a few times and then spoke, “and that's why we have gum,” I blew the minty smell directly into Harry's face and watched as his curls blew back. I grinned up at him, daring him to say the next thing.

  
“You literally do not possess even the slightest idea of what manners might be.”

  
I shook my head in agreement. “You could be right.”

  
“Look, Lewis, I'm just not really the mood for chatting right now, so I'm gonna go back inside and let you smoke.”

  
I laughed out loud at hard he was trying. “Really? Pretending you don't know my name? What's your deal?”

  
“I don't have a deal,”

  
“No, really, Harry. Tell me, what is it that you don't like about me? Is it because I'm so charming that you can't resist me and you're mad that I have all the power?”

  
“About those manners,” he said.

  
I laughed again, “I like you Harry.” He walked toward the door, as he peeled it open I called out to him, “just promise me I'll be the first to know when you decide you like me too.”

  
He flipped me off then and I felt my stomach flutter. It was sort of like a kindergarten crush. Harry didn't know how to, or didn't want to, show me that he cared, so he pretended to hate me. It was cute. I hadn't really felt like this about someone in a long time. I could wait it out.


	4. Four

**Harry**

I was not drunk enough to deal with Louis, who seemed perfectly fucking wasted. There was no other excuse as to why he could honestly believe the things coming out of his mouth. I hadn’t given him even one slight clue that i had a feeling other than utter disgust toward him. He was exhausting to deal with. Every time I tried to escape him, he hunted me down.

  
I left him standing out on the balcony, and hoped desperately that he felt rejected. I hoped that I could find somewhere else to hide. And why was he saying things like that to me, anyway? Wasn't he dating Liam? Was I now obligated to tell Liam what I'd known all along—that Louis was an utter sleaze-bag? I sighed. This whole thing was exhausting. Part of me wanted to give up and leave the party but the rest of me was stubborn. These were _my_  friends. I'd been here first. I opened the door to Niall's bedroom and made myself at home in his bed. I contemplated using a chair to bar the door, but decided against it because Niall technically should have been able to access his own bedroom.

I pulled out my phone and started to mindlessly flip through apps. The buzz of alcohol was starting to wear off by this point. I eventually ended up in my photostream. I scrolled back through tons of memories that is saved to my phone years ago. I had just gotten to the point of no return when Niall walked through the door. Tears streamed down my face and I looked up at him, quickly wiping them all away. Niall was a great friend, but he never just let me be the emotionally closed off person I was supposed to be. He always made me talk about things. Always tried to squeeze feelings out of me.

“I thought you left,” said Niall, joining me on the bed.

  
I shook my head, “nah, thinking about it though.”

  
“You're unseasonably moody,” said Niall, pulling me into a hug I didn't ask for.

  
Maybe I was still drunk because I collapsed into Niall's hug and suddenly became an infant. I cried uncontrollably against him. He held me close and let me finish before he said a word.

  
“Not everyone is going to leave you, Harry.”

  
Normally I would have made a snide comment about how he didn't know what the fuck he was talking about and how I didn't have abandonment issues _thank-you-very-much_ , but this time I considered his words.

  
“Sometimes it feels that way,”

  
“I've been teasing you a lot lately, but you should know I'm just joking. I don't actually want you to get into something you're not ready for.”

  
I leaned my head on his shoulder, “I think maybe we should be done with the feelings talk for today.”

  
“Harry, I'm serious. I know you're scared, and it's okay to be scared, but at some point you need to take a risk. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you aren't ready just yet. That's okay. I can stop making stupid jokes.”

  
I was quiet for a long time. I kept my head on Niall's shoulder and he quietly held me without so much as a word. He was comfortable. He was safe. Niall was probably the only person in the world I really trusted.

  
“I was looking at pictures and I saw one of him and I'd already had so much to drink that it kind of set me off,”

  
I felt Niall nod against me. “I saw you on the balcony with Louis. What did you talk about?”

  
I sighed. “I think he was hitting on me.”

  
Niall shook me, “I knew it!” He exclaimed, excitement in his voice.

  
“I don't know what you're getting excited about--he's supposed to be dating Liam. God he's so fucking shady.”

  
Niall just laughed, “nah, he and Liam aren't a thing. They decided they're just friends--which is excellent news for you.”

  
“Right because I means I'm going to see less of that dirtbag.”

  
Niall ruffled my hair, “alright, whatever you say.”

Niall left the room then. I was alone to my thoughts, which sometimes was the very worst thing I could think of. I had a bad habit of torturing myself with the worst things I could remember. Maybe I did have abandonment issues, but my grief counselor had assured me that it was normal. I had healed. I had made a life in the wake of the tragedy I had lived through. I had moved to London and pursued the dreams that I never imagined could be reality. I had a resume full of achievements and I'd grown so much from the person I'd been back in Holmes chapel. I was hardly recognizable (a fact that my mother never let go). It felt good to be free of the place that had changed everything, but I still felt haunted. I had run for so long and come so far, but my past still haunted me.

  
I heard a knock on Niall's door. “Occupied,” I said, wiping away the tears that had slipped out as my thoughts moved back to the things I'd seen.

  
The door cracked open and I saw Louis' blue eyes peek through the crack. My stomach flipped. I jumped under the covers and pulled them over my head.

  
“Jesus, Louis, go away, would you?”

  
I could hear the smile in his voice and I fought with myself to not let a grin break through on my own face. “So you _do_ know my name,” he said.

  
“Get lost,” I muttered, smiling despite my best effort not to. God, I fucking _hated_ Louis. Why was he even peeking his stupid face into Niall's room anyway?

  
He laughed again, “Niall and I are going out in search of junk food. You coming?”

  
“Hell, no.” I muttered. Louis was so goddamn clueless.

  
“Suit yourself,” he said, and I heard the door click closed.

  
I poked my head out from under the covers. Admittedly, I hadn't expected him to give up on the first try. I felt ripped off or something. I don't know really what I was feeling anymore. I pulled the covers over my head again and closed my eyes. My head spun a bit from all the beer I'd drank, but sleep came quickly.

-

  
_I was running as fast as I could, but something was working against me. Like gravity had suddenly intensified and I weighed twice as much as I once had. But this was life and death. I had to get there. I had to save him before he did something that ruined our lives forever. I kept trying to push forward, but I needed to get there faster._

_  
Finally I got to his house. I tried to open the front door, but it was locked. I yelled. I called his name over and over, but nobody came to open the door. He couldn't hear me. I was too late. Panic dropped into my gut. I had to get the door opened. I ran to the back and fought with the door, but it was locked too. I was crying, my tears running hot down my cheeks. I had to fix this. I couldn't be too late_ _. Not again._

_  
“Ronnie!” I yelled._

_  
Something shook me. I became aware of the smell of Calvin Klein aftershave. I heard my name. It wasn't Ronnie. The voice was Irish. It pleaded with me, but I hadn't gotten to Ronnie yet. I wasn't ready to wake up! Why was he doing this?_

“Harry,” Niall's gravelly voice kept saying my name.

  
I gasped for breath and my eyes flew open. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest.

  
“Ronnie,” I said quickly sitting up.

  
“It's me, Niall, you were having a nightmare.”

  
But it had been so real. It had been just the same as the real day, only this time I had a chance. I could have been there in time, but Niall woke me up! I could have saved him. I could have changed _everything_. I could have taken away all the bad things.

  
Tears burst out again, “I was right there!” I said.

  
Niall rubbed my back in a strangely comforting way. I turned to him and hugged him. I squeezed him harder than was probably comfortable, and he barely even flinched at the fact that I began using him as my own personal Kleenex. My snot and tears and drool all collected on his shirt. He held me close and let me have my panic.

  
“I was so close,” I said, “I almost got there in time.”

  
“It was a dream, Harry,” he said.

  
I slowly became aware of the things that were around me. I was in Niall's bed, crying on Niall's damp shoulder. I didn't hear the music from the party anymore. I looked out the window and saw that it was still dark. The party must have ended and Niall had come to fall asleep and heard my nightmare.

  
“I was dreaming about Ronnie,”

  
Niall watched me carefully, “I heard,” he said simply. He began to fix up the pillows in his bed. I watched him closely.

  
“I wish I could have saved him.” I was rambling now, saying things I'd have never said if I wasn't stuck in the weird limbo feelings between sleep and wakefulness.

  
“I know,” said Niall, settling in to his bed In the spot next to me. “Harry, I'm sorry.”

  
“I don't want you to be sorry,” I said, pulling the blankets off of me.

  
I walked toward the door, making a beeline for the bathroom where I could hopefully pull myself together. I should have gone home to my own bed, but I usually spent the whole weekend at Niall's. I tiptoed through the living room and made it safely to the bathroom. I locked the door behind me. I ran the water in the sink and started to splash my face.

  
It had been so long since I'd had a nightmare that I'd assumed it was no longer a thing. Why had it happened tonight? What had made me go to such a dark place that nightmares we suddenly a part of my life again? I stared at my reflection. There was no doubt that I looked darker. I looked like the same person I'd been six years ago. As hard as I tried to outrun my grief, my _guilt_ , it always chased me down. I wanted to be really free, but no matter what I did it always caught up to me.

I patted my face dry with a towel and turned off the light. I tried to tip-toe silently through the living room so I didn't wake up Liam. The room was too dark to see anything, so I walked slowly by memory. Inevitably, though, I tripped. I hit my knee off the coffee table and fell back, on to the couch, hoping to take a moment to inspect the damage. As I landed on the couch I realized instantly that it was occupied.

  
“Oh, hello, gorgeous. This is mighty unexpected,” Louis voice carried connotation that I really did not want to deal with.

  
“Jesus, Christ, don't you have a house?” I snapped.

  
“Don't you?” He countered.

I stood up instantly, but he tugged my wrist, pulling me towards him.

  
“you could just give in for the night,” he said, and I could see the flash of playfulness in his blue eyes, even in the dark.

  
“I'd rather be eaten alive by sharks,”

  
“well that's awfully dramatic,” he said, releasing my hand.

  
I stood and began stumbling toward Niall's room.

  
“See you in the morning, sweet cheeks,” he called after me in that awful Yorkshire accent of his.

  
I flipped him off again, but I was probably too dark for him to see.


	5. Five

**Louis**

I watched as Harry's silhouette faded into Niall's bedroom. There was something there. There was something in the way he spoke to me that made me really _feel_. I wanted badly for him to give up his act, but I also sensed that maybe he was using it for something deeper. Maybe it wasn't just a way to push away guys he wasn't interested in. Maybe it was genuine fear.

How ever I looked at it, and however Harry looked at it, it really didn't matter. I didn't have anything to hide. I wasn't going to hurt him. I had no interest in games. I had real feelings for him, even if he was essentially a perfect stranger. I couldn't control it, but I saw that he felt it too. I could understand being scared. Relationships were a lot of work, but Harry was going to be worth all of it. I sensed it.

  
I allowed myself to fall asleep, comforted by the fact that Harry was just behind one of the doors. I wanted more than anything to chase him out, but I'd done enough for one day. I'd planted the seed. He'd find me soon enough. I felt sure of this fact. He couldn't keep putting so much effort into hating me.  
  
…

 

I woke up the next morning feeling utterly horrible and ridiculously hungover. I buried my face in the pillow I was using and pleaded with the sun to give up. Liam sat at the end of the couch and I curled up my feet, giving him room.

  
“Do you ever feel like maybe you're getting too old for wild parties?” I asked him, whispering so that my head wouldn't explode.

  
He laughed quietly, “I'm not as old as you," he mocked, "I feel fine.”

  
He handed me a glass of water and two pills. I thanked him and swallowed them back.

  
“Niall and I have a breakfast tradition.” Liam explained, “every time we drink, we go out for breakfast, you in?”

  
I groaned, “the thought of food is enough to make me vomit. I'm gonna have to pass this time.”

  
I tried to imagine the taxi ride back to my apartment. I would be a mess. My stomach turned at the thought of stopping and going through traffic. But I couldn't stay at Liam's forever. I'd have to make it home eventually. Niall appeared in the living room then, wearing fresh clothes and a bright smile. I envied him. He didn't even look hungover at all. It must have been luck of the Irish. They knew how to drink. I made a mental note ask him his secrets.

  
Liam got to his feet, “Louis’ DOA,” he said. “Grab Haz and let's head out.”

  
Niall laughed, “Harry's DOA too.”

  
My head perked up only slightly as I took in this bit of information. I'd have given anything to not have been so ill. I was clearly being presented with the the perfect opportunity to be alone with Harry and I hated myself for getting too drunk. Liam patted my back and I groaned at the gesture. I closed my eyes and I'm sure I was asleep before Liam even got his shoes on.

 

  
When I woke up again, the first thing I was aware of was the glorious smell of coffee. I lifted my head and inhaled. I felt less like I was about to die, and less like I needed to vomit. It was a marked improvement. I wasn't sure how long I'd been asleep, but there was no sign that Liam and Niall had returned. My walk toward the kitchen confirmed that they weren't home, which meant that this blessed beverage had only one possible origin: Harry.

  
I refrained from doing a stupid dance and thanked whatever deity had gifted me the opportunity of being alone with Harry. I made a bee-line for Niall's room, downing the coffee as I went. There door was shut, so I knew he was in there. I knocked softly before I opened the door. Harry was wrapped in blankets and sipping his coffee, his head whipped around to glare at me. His heart wasn't really into the gesture. I must have been wearing him down. I congratulated myself internally.

  
I held up my mug, “you're my saviour,”

  
“You shouldn't drink so much that you need saving,” he muttered.

  
I shrugged, “the way I see it, it's not all bad because instead of going for breakfast, I got alone time with you.”

  
He swatted the air, pretending to brush me off, “I'm starting to wonder if you even have your own house,”

  
I grinned at him, “why? Did you want to see it?”

  
“Pfft,” said Harry. “Never in a million years. I'm just wondering if you're ever planning on leaving this place. I'd like my sanctuary and my friends back.”

  
“watch a movie with me,”

  
He laughed, trying to sound annoyed. “Jesus, when have I ever given you the idea I'd ever want to spend extended time with you?

  
I shrugged. “I read between the lines.”

  
“So hypothetically speaking, if I was nice to you, you'd back off?”

  
My cheeks hurt from my grin. “No, but you should try it.”

  
Harry had all the spunk of an 8 week old kitten. He's bite was about on par with that too. He didn't have the slightest clue how to deter me. He also didn't have the slightest clue if he _wanted_ to deter me. Knowledge of this fact gave me the upper hand.

  
“Louis, hell will freeze over before I decide I want to watch a movie with you.”

  
I shivered and rubbed my arms and marched into the room. A look of horror emerged on Harry's face. I climbed into the bed and settled in next to him. I kept a fair distance and the look on his face made my decision well worth it.

  
“What exactly are you doing?” He hissed.

  
“hell's freezing over. I'm cold,” I said, wrapping the blankets around myself.

  
“Unreal,” he muttered under his breath.

  
“Oh, I'm real, sweet cheeks,” I said, bouncing on Niall's bed’ trying to make him nervous. “Niall's bed is comfortable,” I said looking over to his cranky expression. I made deliberate eye contact before speaking, “my beds more comfortable though. You should try it some time.”

  
Harry laughed then. A real laugh that made his eyes sparkle. I saw his dimples then and noticed the way the corners of his eyes crinkled with his joy. I felt my stomach flip over.

  
“You're actually too much,” he said.

  
As I looked over at him all I wanted to do was touch his face. He was softer than I'd grown used to and I wanted to capture it. But I unfortunately had been gifted with a horrible set of boundaries and I understood that reaching out to him would cross them and probably ruin all potential progress. My charm was finally working on him, so I couldn't throw it all away for an urge.

  
I heard the front door open and listened to Niall and Liam chatting as they entered their apartment. They appeared in the doorway a moment later. Niall grinned at Harry. I grinned at Harry too, because I'd have given anything to always remember the look of utter horror on Harry's face when Niall winked at him. He liked me. His best friend saw it, but Harry was so fucking stubborn I imagined I'd be the last to know when he finally felt ready to admit it.

  
“Why is it that the only straight guy in the room seems to have a revolving door of men in my bed?”

  
This time instead of glaring at me, Harry shot his glare over to Niall.

  
“What are you doing in here anyway?” Niall asked.

  
I looked at Harry as I spoke, “I was wearing Harry down. He's just about to agree to watching a movie with me.”

  
“You live in a fantasy world.” Harry muttered.

  
“You coming out for my game tomorrow, Haz?” Niall asked.

  
Harry nodded.

  
“I'll drive you,” I said, glancing at Niall. I was interested to know his take on the whole thing. He grinned at Harry's reaction.

  
“First of all, no you won't. Second of all, you do realize golf happens at sunrise, right? Judging by the time you dragged yourself out of bed today, we'd miss the whole thing.”

  
I just smiled at him, “so we can just stay up all night. There's plenty of things I can think of doing to keep ourselves awake.”

  
Harry curled his lip, feigning disgust. “Yeah, Niall, I'll be at the game. In a cab though.”

Niall left the room a few minutes later. Harry turned to me.

  
“Why do you bother having a car in London, anyway. What a waste. To You must have too much money for your own good.”

  
“I made a decent taxable income, if that's what you mean.” I winked at him.

  
We were both silent for a long time. Harry began flipping through his phone. I watched him closely. I took in the way he tried to hide his face from me with his hair. He had not asked me to leave, which made me wonder if he was considering giving up his act. I still had more patience, but I was also very willing to accept his defeat.

  
“Harry?” I said

  
He looked over at me, his face completely impassive. “What now?”

  
“I'm gonna go home now.” He watched me, waiting for the invitation I was pretty sure he'd just turn down. I needed to give him a chance to miss me. I knew I'd made him consider it all. He was already planning the way he'd turn down my invitation. I had to keep him guessing. I got up from the bed and walked toward the door.

  
I turned around and saw the look of anticipation in his eyes. “Try not to miss me too much.”

  
His eyes didn't leave me, but I tried my hardest not to turn around. To beg him to leave with me. I winked at him and he narrowed his eyes, up but he didn't say a word. He wanted to. There was something on the tip of his tongue and I'd have given anything to have had the tools to pry it out of him. He let me leave without saying it. I both loathed him and wanted to breathe only the air near his face. Harry was a challenge.

 


	6. Six

**Harry**

 

After Louis left, Niall joined me on the bed almost instantly.

  
“What was that all about?” Niall had a stupid grin. He _always_ had a stupid grin, especially when he thought he was right. He wasn't right.

  
“What was _what_ all about?

  
He rolled his eyes at me like he wasn't the annoying one, “Harry you're going to have to stop playing dumb. Tell me about Louis.”

“Alright,” I said smartly, “his name is Louis. He writes shitty songs. He's clearly homeless because he never leaves your house. He smokes, which is revolting and he drinks way too much. He's cocky and he's not even good looking. He doesn't possess a single muscle. He has no sense of boundaries. He's basically a toddler who doesn't understand what ‘leave me alone’ means. He's likely a pathological liar because no one in London has a car. He also has the most annoying accent I've ever heard. Shall I continue?”

  
Niall started laughing, like _really_ laughing. I wanted to punch him. “That was a mouthful for someone you claim to hate,”

  
“Well, there's a lot to hate.”

  
“Well, he's gone now, which means the ball is in your court. You're obviously inviting him to my game tomorrow,”

  
“No?” I said it as firmly as I could, but also playing dumb.

  
“Harry, why do you insist on being difficult?”

  
“Will you kindly fuck off and realize that I have no interest in that short little twit?”

  
Niall narrowed his eyes at me, “Harry, I have _never_ seen you so interested in someone.”

  
“you have no idea what you're talking about. I'm pretty sure you're confusing _his_ stalking for _my_ affection,"

  
“Yeah, he likes you, Harry and why wouldn't he? You can't blame him for being interested,” He ruffled my hair. “Plus the feeling is obviously mutual, so why not cut him some slack?”

  
“Niall,” I began, “I _do not_ and never will have any interest in Louis Tomlinson.”

  
Niall grabbed my phone then and started punching in a bunch of letters. When he handed it back to me, there was magically a contact that said ‘Louis Tomlinson’ with a kissy face emoji next to it.

  
“Just invite the guy.” Said Niall. “If he's patient enough to put up with your shit he deserves that _and_ a metal of honour, in my opinion.”

  
“Fuck your opinion.” I said getting up. I grabbed my camera and walked out of Niall's room. My best friend was the second most annoying person in the world. The first was obviously Louis Tomlinson.

 

  
I wandered around the park, hoping to feel inspired by something. All I could think about was stupid Louis and stupid Niall and I wanted to think about _anything_ else. How dare my own best friend conspire against me? What was it that everyone around me saw in Louis? Why were they able to look past all of his horrible traits—and _worse_ —why did they think I should look past them? I was everything but interested in him. All I wanted was to be far from him.

  
Maybe I was a bit difficult. Maybe I was hard to reach. But these weren't bad things! Everyone wanted me to cast aside my nature to make all these exceptions for Louis, but what they failed to see was that Louis was that last person I would ever make those exceptions for. I wasn't about to change everything that I'd known for years for some guy who was simply a quilt of bad traits stitched together with a whole bunch of bad habits. There was nothing there. There was nothing between Louis and I except for maybe a restraining order down the road.

  
What was most annoying about the whole thing was the fact that I couldn't stop thinking about him. His stupid blue eyes and his completely unsolicited grin would not leave my mind. Louis was not the kind of guy I went for. I liked well groomed, well dressed men who at the very least, knew the _location_ of the gym. I wanted substance. Throw down. Protection. Someone would could take care of me. I wanted someone who was—well— _manly_.

  
Louis was none of those things. I was _taller_ than him. I was in better shape than him. Also, I was fairly certain he was a pathological liar. There was no way the things he said were true. First of all I didn't really believe he was a songwriter. That wasn't a legitimate profession. Niall played guitar better than this guy could. And what about the car thing? Not only was in next to impossible to find parking, it was completely impossible that a homeless man could own a car. And living alone? Another impossibility. I lived with 4 other flat mates.

  
Louis was horrendous and way too good on paper to even be true.

  
I wanted nothing to do with him, but he just kept popping up everywhere. I would have given anything to lose my train of thought. I wanted think about literally anything else.  
There was a silver lining to be seen, though. Liam and Louis were friends and Liam was getting ready to leave for a 10 day cruise. This roughly translated to me and Niall being able to hang out for a couple of weeks without Louis. I liked this fact.

  
But this nagging part of me felt like maybe I'd miss the attention…

  
But I crushed that part of myself. Louis was a relationship kind of person, which again, made him both wrong for me and wrong in general. I hadn't had a boyfriend since I was 17. The word boyfriend was practically a dirty word to me. My very best friend, who was the only person I spoke with anything about, was straight. I kept everything exactly how I liked it. I made it so I would never get hurt again. I would never take that risk.

....

The rest of my week progressed normally. I went to Niall's game without an escort. I didn't contact Louis, much to Niall's dismay. He was too nosy anyway. What did Niall even know? He wasn't in my head.

  
Work was slow that week. I only had one photo shoot for a a magazine and a wedding that coming Saturday. For some stupid reason, when Thursday approached, since I had no commitments of Friday, I accepted Niall's invitation for a horror movie marathon. I knew it was a bad idea for two reasons: first being that years ago my grief counselor and I had established that I had a mild case of PTSD and with this came the capacity for nightmares that made horror movies seem like a joke. The last thing I needed was movies to fuel my already rocky relationship with sleep. The second reason I knew it was a bad idea was because I knew my friends would conspire against me. I knew when I showed up that Louis would be there. I knew all of this and I went anyway.

  
I fussed over what I was wearing for an hour before I realized what I was doing. I growled at myself and pulled on a sweat shirt and sweatpants. _That'll show him,_ I thought to myself.

  
When I left the apartment, I was wearing the outfit I'd taken an hour to pick.

  
I hated myself almost as much as I hated Louis.

When I arrived at Niall and Liam's apartment, I knew instantly that it as was too quiet for Louis to possibly be there. Niall wore a stupid grin. I wanted to slap him. He looked me up and down and his smile turned into a laugh.

  
“I feel like you're over dressed for a movie marathon with your friends,”

  
I didn't slap him. Instead I punched him in the stomach and muttered “fuck off,”

  
“Were you expecting someone else to be here?” Niall pressed despite the right hook he had just received.

  
“Please say it was me you were expecting,” Louis' voice came from down the hall and I actually had to fight with my own face not to grin like a full-blown mental patient. I hated stupid Louis.

  
“Oh, Niall, no!” I whined.

  
“Oh yes, Niall,” said Louis, placing his hand on the small of my back. I felt my cheeks blaze and a shiver rocked down my spin all the way to my toes. “Shall we?” He said, his little flat lips practically on my ear. He lead my body into Niall's apartment.

  
“What are you even doing here on a Thursday? Don't you have a job?” I snapped.

  
“My job is limited to when I'm inspired. Shockingly I've had other things on my mind lately.”

He started to take my coat off for me. Was that an attempt at being an gentleman? Why was he trying so hard?

  
Obviously, I pushed him away and finished hanging up my own coat. His stupid grin was useless and impossible to look away from. I wasn't sure in that moment if my time was better used hating Louis or hating myself. I really fucking hated myself. How dare I even start to fall for Louis pathetic attempt at charm?

  
Niall clapped me on the back, ”what are you and Louis getting up to this weekend anyway?”

  
I was pretty sure that just a few days ago Niall had made me a promise that he'd stop meddling, but it seemed like that ship had sailed. Niall sucked at follow through. I resisted the urge to punch him again.

  
“I was thinking maybe we could go for a drive out to the country. See some sights,” said Louis like he actually believed I'd get into a car with him and waste my entire weekend.

  
“In your dreams,” I snapped. “Besides, I'm working a wedding this weekend anyway,”

Louis shrugged and made his way into the room. Niall and Liam, like the assholes that they were, sat on the two chairs on either side of the couch. When Louis sat on the couch, I was left with no other seating options other than next to Louis. I debated leaving, since it was completely obvious that I was being set up. My friends sucked. Louis grinned at me as I sat down, trying to sit as far from him as possible. His eyes didn't leave me.

  
“I don't bite,” he said, sliding a bit too close to me, “at least not unless you'd like that.”

  
I could feel my face flaming with my blush and I hoped that the room would spontaneously combust at that moment. When it didn't, I heard Liam and Niall laugh at Louis' horrible joke. Everyone in the room was against me. I wanted to rage at them all.

  
“Why don't you slide back over and try to stay inside your own bubble,” I mumbled.

  
His blue eyes sparkled up at me as I tried to look everywhere but him.

  
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” He asked softly, and I felt his breath blow on my cheek and I could smell cigarettes and cinnamon toothpaste. Did anyone actually like the smell of cinnamon toothpaste? Everything Louis did was wrong.

  
“No in the way you're hoping,” I snapped.

  
“Not that I trust your opinion anyway, but I think your cheeks are telling a different story,”

  
I felt like I was going to vomit. My stomach flipped back and forth as I tried to glare down at Louis who was beaming from ear to ear.

  
“I realize you might be mentally handicapped when it comes to social cues, but I'm really not interested in being stared at for the whole night,” I said trying to sound as annoyed as I wanted to be. “Turn on the movie Niall, save me from this social reject, please.”

As the night wore on I watched person after person being slaughtered, but I felt nothing as I watched the movies. The only thing I was able to focus on was the fact that Louis kept inching closer and closer toward my end of the couch. He was moving slowly, like he actually believed that maybe I wouldn't notice. I felt his gaze on me as I stared dead-pan at the television screen. A smile was set on his lips. I don't think he'd seen even a second of the movie. I felt an uncontrollable urge to giggle and to off myself for the feeling. Instead, I finally looked at Louis and summoned my most angry glare

“You know, I'm quite aware you're staring at me and not the movie. You're not being subtle.”

  
His gaze didn't leave me, “I know.” Was all he said.

  
I was angry that he didn't stop staring and I forced my glare back to the television. I lasted another moment before I whipped my head around and yelled at him, “ _What_ ,” I said.

  
Louis shrugged, “just enjoying the view,”.

  
Genuine anger burned inside me, “What is your _problem_?” I demanded so angrily that I heard Liam hiss my name at me, like I was wrong for being angry and Louis for staring relentlessly at me for hours.

  
Nothing I said caught Louis off guard. He didn't even flinch. His smile didn't falter and all he did was narrow his eyes at me and raised one eyebrow like I was a small child who'd forgotten my manners.

  
“I only have one problem, Harry and it's you. But you already knew that.”

  
“I am _not_ your problem, Louis,” I said and I could feel that I was going to take it too far. I was starting to like Louis. I blushed when he looked at me and I kept wanting to smile in a way that made my face hurt. I had too push him away now before it got worse. I would not get hurt again. “Your problem is that you are delusional enough to believe that you can convince me to like you. You are not my type, and I don't want anything to do with you. I just want to see my friends, but you keep showing up, and frankly you're ruining my friendships because I don't even want to come over here because I know I'll see you.”

  
I saw something flash across Louis’ face, maybe it was hurt, but I found it hard to believe since he seemed to always be so unaffected.

  
“You're kind of an asshole,” said Liam from across the room.

  
I looked at Liam and he shook his head. I saw the disgrace burning in his eyes. He was embarrassed at my outburst. He felt badly for Louis. I had made him upset because for some reason he wanted to protect Louis’ pride from my callous words. I felt bad for upsetting Liam, but I was also protecting myself. That was always my main goal in life. I'd been through enough. Now more than anything, I knew how to keep myself from any kind of pain.

  
Louis didn't say anything else, he just turned away from me and leaned against the arm of the couch that he'd avoided all night in favour of inching closer to me. He was now as far away from me as I hoped he'd be all night, yet all I felt was a deep guilt inside of me. I hated myself for the dumb feeling, because as rude as I was to Louis, it was all in my own best interest. I deserved to not feel hurt.

  
We were all silent for a few moments and stared at the television. Everyone in the room hated me. They all wanted me to be elsewhere. I could only stand it for another couple of minutes and then I rose from my seat. I walked toward the front door. Niall got up and followed me, hovering while I pulled on my boots.

  
“You're leaving?” He said, looking back at Louis.

  
“I'm just making this whole thing awkward. You're obviously mad about my honesty, so I think we all need to cool down. I'm just going to head home.”

  
Louis had appeared in the doorway before I finished my sentence.

  
“Are you going to be okay?” Louis sounded like this was some sort of genuine concern for him.

  
I looked at Niall, “I'll be at your game Sunday.”

  
I turned to leave, but Louis grabbed my wrist. My skin burned where he touched it and my whole body buzzed with some sort of electrical current.

  
“Harry,” he concern _was_  genuine. Fear rocked through my body. “Let me drive you,”

  
it wasn't a question. It was more of a plea. Naturally I shook my head, but he didn't release my wrist.

  
“I'm gonna drive you,” he said, not leaving it open ended at all. He sensed my unrest and he wasn't going to let me leave any other way than with him. I felt like I was in some sort of daze. Like the world was happening around me, but I lacked the ability to function in it. Somehow, without me noticing how it happened, and without me putting up a protest, I was standing in the elevator next to Louis. He didn't say anything further, he just stood quietly next to me. Something was wrong. Something bad was inside of me. I could almost taste the nightmares that I knew I'd have that night. I felt wounded. My friends had betrayed me and chosen to stand up for Louis, and although to almost anyone else in the world, this would have made sense, since I was the rude one, I felt an impossible amount of hurt over it. I wasn't entitled to feel so betrayed for anything, but I felt it regardless.

  
I entered another world inside of my head. The world around me disappeared as I began to picture what my life would be like without Niall and Liam. It was dramatic, and if I had been able to see through the strange haze I was in, I would have been able to see that easily, but I was in a state of hurt and fear. The elevator must have stopped at some point because I felt Louis’ hand on my back as he led me through the doors. I heard him say a few things, but none of them made it to the part of my brain capable of processing language. I felt bad. I hadn't felt like this in a long time and I knew it was Louis' fault. The last time I had honestly _liked_  someone like I liked Louis, my whole fucking life had exploded. I didn't want this. Not again.

  
We stood next to a blue Corolla and Louis opened the passenger side door and waited for me to get in. Again he said words, but I was glazed over in grief and fear and I felt an uncontrollable urge to sob. I bolted. I ran out of the parking garage like I was running for my life. I heard Louis slam the door and take off after me. I wished I could have understood what he'd said to me, but nothing but blind fear and horror were being processed by my brain.

  
I burst out onto the street and breathed deeply the stale, London air. Louis was at my side instantly. He said more things that I didn't understand. I stared blankly at him. I wanted to say things back to him, to explain how I felt for some reason. I never wanted to open up, even to Niall, but I felt compelled to spill it all to Louis. To tell him about how nothing had ever been the same after Ronnie and Tessa and how I needed to protect myself. How it felt to live with constant fear and guilt and how I was so much better on my own. About how I needed him to stand there and listen to me, but how I could never give him more than that because I really had nothing else to give.

  
“You should go,” were the only words I managed to get out.

  
He shook his head and the fog started to lift from my brain and I began to understand the things he was saying.

  
“No,” he said, “I'm going to either take you home or take you back up to Niall, but I'm most certainly not going to leave you here.”

  
“I don't need a babysitter,” I croaked, fully aware that I should be anything but alone. “I can take care of myself,”

  
Louis placed his hand on my back and rubbed it slowly. I would normally have been completely opposed to the forward nature of his gesture, but I found it made me remember where I was. I became aware of my surroundings and I felt my body again. Things became clearer and clearer as I stared stupidly at my shoes.

  
“I'm not babysitting you, Harry, I just want you to be okay.”

  
Louis was kind and genuine and I wanted badly to just accept that about him, but I also wanted to protect myself from him. I could get hurt. It wasn't a risk I ever wanted to take again. Why couldn't he just see how reasonable that was?

  
“I don't want to go home,” I was spewing things I'd regret later.

  
“So let's just drive,” said Louis and when I met his eyes I realized I was a goner. I was falling for it. I was falling for his charms. I was falling for his stupid jokes and his stupid blue eyes. It was just a matter of time. My only hope was that my volatile personality would push him away and he'd leave me, but I was as good as gone. 

  
“Yeah,” I said.

  
To his credit, Louis hid his shock well, he smiled softly at me and I followed him back to his car. Again, he opened the door for me and I got into the passengers seat. As I waited for him to walk around around the car and join me inside, I breathed deeply. I wasn't sure how Louis scent was something that I'd become familiar with, but I felt aware that his car smelled the same way he did. I felt safe, yet rationally, I knew that _feeling_ anything wasn't safe.

  
Louis got into the driver's seat and looked over at me. He had a real, serious look on his face. All jokes and teasing were gone since I had made everything so awkward. He still gave me a small smile and bravely reached across to my hands, which I held balled up on my lap. He captured my right and and slid his fingers through mine and squeezed my hand gently.

  
“I like spending time with you, Harry.”

  
My common sense was gone, but I'd begun to feel more and more like myself. I dramatically rolled my eyes, “this is a moment of weakness. I wouldn't get used to it if I were you,” I said the words, yet I made no move to free my hand from his.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next:
> 
> And then, like the universe had finally stopped working against me, Harry's lips met mine.


	7. Seven

**Louis**

I felt Harry's soft fingers through mine. I wasn't sure if I was more shocked or delighted. Harry hadn’t ripped his hand away from me. I felt like a king. He was letting me care, and if I was being honest, I truly hadn't expected him to soften so easily. I expected him to tear his hand away from me quickly and brush me off with some snide comment. Although he did make an attempt at a snide comment, it was painfully obvious that he didn't mean it. I hadn't thought this far ahead. I'd assumed he'd never even get into the car with me, now I didn't have a single thing mapped out because this was the last place I'd expected to be.

  
“I wouldn't consider it weakness,” I said, “I'd call it genuine affection.”

  
He looked at me and raised an eyebrow, like he was about to deny that I was right. He tried to pull his hand away from me, but I held it tight. Every part of my body told me to lean across the car and kiss him in the way that I'd hoped for since the day I met him. I wasn't the type of person who resisted urges. I leaned across quickly, Harry's face an inch from mine.

  
“Louis,” he said, and I tasted his breath. It blew back my fringe and sent a current through my body. I wanted to know what my name tasted like when he said it. He placed his index finger over my lips, telling me to back off.

  
“Please kiss me, Harry.” I begged, my mouth moving against the finger that still held my poor, deprived lips back from him.

  
There was some sort of visible debate on his face. Finally, he shook his head back and forth and I had never felt so disappointed in my entire existence. I didn't move my face from his, I kept my gaze trained on him. He didn't pull away and his finger stayed still on my lips. Finally, his finger moved from my lips and I anticipated a backlash for crossing a line that he'd claim was perfectly obvious. He'd yell at me about how I wasn't his type and how he wasn't interested in me and how much he didn't want to date. It was a well perfected script, but Harry strayed. Something was different about him in that moment. Instead of moving further from me, his hand trailed from my lips, across my jaw until he held me from the back of my neck. My heart drummed at an impossible pace in my throat as I waited for what was next.

  
“You are so thoroughly irritating,” said Harry, moving his flawless face closer to mine.

I had never been this far off script. I was certain that Harry was trying to torment me. That he would pull away before I ever got to taste his lips. He was forgetting the part he was playing with me. He was doing improv now, and I just had to attempt to follow along. I'd most assuredly cross a line, but I couldn't be blamed for that! He was giving me exactly what I wanted. I could not be held accountable for reacting like a human being.

  
And then, like the universe had finally stopped working against me, Harry's lips met mine. It wasn't how I expected. I had assumed that he'd be short and tentative. That he'd kiss me shyly because of the internal conflict he felt over the whole thing. I expected that his kiss would be anything but brave, and that he'd pull away from me immediately and spew a language of regret and anger, but I was wrong. I was dead wrong.

Harry's kiss was intense. His lips crushed mine and I gasped against his mouth in shock and his whole body flew into the kiss. He pulled me as close to him as the awkward nature of the car would allow. His arms wrapped around me and his mouth opened against mine. His lips tasted like Chapstick and there was popcorn and beer on his breath. He tasted better than I'd expected. My heart trilled in my chest and I let the joy of being right wash over me. I _knew_ Harry liked me. This wasn't a kiss of someone who wasn't interested.

  
Once the initial shock wore off, I reacted more appropriately by winding my fingers in his hair and flicking my tongue against his. I don't know how long it lasted for. It felt like no time at all, but realistically it wasn't _just_ a kiss. It was a full blown horny-teenagers-in-their-parents-car-way-past-curfew kind of make out session. We threw caution to the wind. Time passed oddly. Almost No time had gone by, yet I'd somehow managed to memorize every millimeter of Harry's lips. I could hardly breathe when he finally pulled away from me. I stared intensely at him as he stared at the floor.

  
“Not your type,” I mumbled, watching the way he stared at the ground.

  
His lips parted and I saw the impossible smile on his. It was the kind of smile he wanted to fight against, but try as he might his whole face glittered with embarrassment.

  
“I wouldn't get used to it,” he spoke directly to the floor.

  
“Right, because it was clearly awful. I can tell by the way you’re blushing that you clearly didn't want that. It must have been horrible for you.” I said it all sarcastically, a huge grin pasted on my face.

  
“If you would stop speaking, that would be fantastic.” He pursed his lips together, trying to stop the smile he couldn't wipe off his face.

  
He needed a moment. I put the keys into the ignition and shifted the gear and reversed out of the parking space. Harry didn't say a word and I tried to imagine how mad he must be that after all the effort he put into hating me, that he'd finally given into the impossible electricity between us. It was glorious to be right. I could barely concentrate on anything other than the memory of his eager lips against mine. I had it easier. I made no move to attempt to hide my glittering joy. I beamed from ear to ear, freely because I wanted him to know. I wanted him to see that even though I'd only just gotten the alone time with him I'd begged for, he made me happy. It was simple and the only reason it was difficult was because Harry insisted on making it that way.

  
“We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,” I said, smile still set in place, “but I will say one thing: _damn_. You really held that back for too long.”

  
He fought with his smile again. “I stand by my statement. You're the most irritating person in the world.”

  
I laughed and stared out at the city lights as I drove slowly down the street. “Now what?” I asked, hoping against everything that he'd ask to spend more time with me.

  
He shrugged, “this already isn't the night I expected. I only wanted a ride home.”

  
“Bullshit,” I sputtered, laughing in a foolishly carefree way.

  
His own laugh matched mine perfectly, like we made to laugh together. “Just drive,” he said.

This side of Harry was even more perfect. Joy sparkled in his eyes he was unable to stifle it in the way he'd always tried.

  
“Talk to me,” I said, “tell me something.”

  
“I hate that shitty song you wrote, and your car smells a bit like cigarettes.”

  
I shot him a look, “please don't go back to being that Harry. You're a tease. Be nice again.”

  
He didn't say anything else. The car was silent for one agonizing moment. I shouldn't stand it any longer. I wanted to memorize the way he pronounced every single word in the English language. The way his deep, slow voice resonated in my ears was perfection. I had to keep him speaking.

  
“Have you done any travelling?” It felt like an interview, but I couldn't just spew the things I was really thinking; Harry was a flight risk. I couldn't tell him too much without sending him running for the hills.

  
“None,” he said, “I went to Ireland for a holiday with Niall once, but that's the furthest I've been.”

  
He didn't ask about me. He was sending me dead-end answers. I had to pry things out of him. I was annoyed, but I wasn't deterred.

  
“well, you should change that. There's a whole world out there. And most of it is dying to be photographed.”

  
“And, let me guess--you've seen most of it.” His normal, detached and distant tone had returned to his voice. Disappointment settled in my stomach.

  
“I've seen some places. I'd like to see more,” I could hear the sadness in my own voice. I wanted more of Harry. Maybe my expectation was unrealistic.

  
He didn't say a word. I wanted to scream at him for being two vastly different people at once, but I also couldn't risk sending him running. I tried to mask my hurt with humour.

  
“If I stop the car and pull over, will you go back to being nice and kiss me again?”

  
His smile was gone, he stared out the window completely deadpan. He didn't even answer me. He looked like he wanted to bolt. I began to blame myself. I wasn't sure what I'd done wrong, but I'd clearly taken my perfect opportunity to spend quality time with Harry and turned him back into the cold, aloof man I'd first met. I was repelling him. I wished I could have been anyone else in that moment. I wished I could have been whatever it was that Harry wanted. 

  
“I wish you'd talk to me.” I said quietly.

  
“Look, Louis, I appreciate the ride home, but that's all this is. I'm not the person you want me to be. I don't want to be out on some romantic date with you and hold your hand and tell you all my secrets. That's not me. I want to go home now.”

  
I felt a sick sense of embarrassment settle into my gut. I'd misread everything, and I couldn't turn it back around. I couldn't turn Harry back into the person he'd been moments before. I didn't know how to affect him. I didn't know how I'd even managed to get there in the first place. I pulled the car over to the side of the road and put it in park. I looked over at him, but he didn't say a word to me. The car was filled with silence and the only thing I heard was the click of the signal light.

  
“why are you doing this?” Was all I could think to say.

  
Of course, he didn't look at me. He didn't even say anything of value. I muttered something about how he hadn't done anything and then undid his seat belt. His hand flew to the door handle, but I grabbed his wrist before he pulled it open. He tore his arm away from me quickly.

  
“don't touch me,” his voice was sub-zero. I felt like an idiot. I'd been here the whole night, but somehow I still didn't have a clue what was happening. I didn't know what I could say that would have been right.

  
“You don't have to get out here, Harry. I'll still drive you home,”

  
“I'd rather just walk,” he said, opening the door.

  
“Don't leave it like this,” I begged as he got out. “You don't have to be scared, Harry. I'm not going to hurt you.”

  
He leaned his head back into the car, “I know you're not going to hurt me, Louis, because to do that I'd have to care in the first place.” I felt ice settle in my stomach. “Thanks for the ride,” he slammed the door and I watched him walk down the street.

  
My mind spun because I didn't have the first clue what had just happened. I felt like an idiot. Embarrassment painted my cheeks. dealing with Harry was unlike anything else.

  
I quickly rushed to press the down button for the window. "Harry!" I called after him. He didn't turn to look at me. I inched the car forward, "dammit Harry, what is your problem?" I called after him.

  
He looked back at me, "none of your business."

  
I watched as he all but ran down the street from me. I'd gotten to spend about 20 minutes with Harry and somehow it had gone from awkward, to perfect to me scaring him off completely. I wasn't sure which one of us was at fault, but I was mad. It wasn't fair. I'd wanted to spend time with him. My intentions weren't sinister, or even shallow. I didn't want to fuck him, I just wanted to _know_ him. I couldn't figure out the crime in that. He's reaction to me was completely unwarranted. I put the car back in park and watched as he walked away from me. I didn't know how to make him come back, or if it was even possible. I texted Liam and began driving back to his place. Initially I wanted to go there and beg Niall for answers, but it wasn't fair. I needed to figure Harry out on my own.

Niall had already gone to bed by the time I got there and a large part of me was disappointed by that. Liam handed me a beer and we sat on the couch.

  
"How bad was it?"

  
I looked at him with confusion.

  
"Harry," he specified, "how bad was he?"

  
I shrugged, taking a long sip of my beer.

  
"Yeah, that's what a figured." Said Liam,"others before you have tried, but none have cracked the mysterious inner workings of Harry styles. Niall is literally the only person alive who has a clue."

  
I chose not to say anything. Harry had desperately wanted to thrust me further from him, but I felt closer. I felt a real, serious thing between us. I knew Harry was scared and that he didn't want whatever existed there to be real, but he was wrong. I wasn't even close to finished.

  
"Look, Louis you gave it a shot, but Harry doesn't want to be liked. If you wanted to fuck him and run, you'd honestly be much more successful."

  
"I don't believe that," I said quietly.

  
"Honestly, Lou, I'm really pissed at the way he spoke to you. He's not a nice guy,"

  
I raised an eyebrow at Liam. "Jealous?"

  
"Of you attempting to crack Harry? No I'm just mad I can't save you from the horrors before you realize how fucked up he really is."

  
I didn't say anything to deny it, because it was quite obvious that Harry was pretty fucked up, but I didn't really mind. Part of being the sort of person who actively sought out relationships, meant that I had a grip on how these things worked. Everyone was fucked up, the trick was to find someone who was worth working around. Harry was worth it.

  
The silence lingered for a few more moments before Liam finally caved. "So, what actually happened with Harry? Did he love you and leave you like he's done to every other guy in the world?"

  
"Not in so many words."

  
Harry was such a private person, I felt like telling Liam what had happened would be a violation of sorts, but at the same time I wanted to spill everything. I wanted to tell him about how Harry tasted and about the joy I'd briefly seen sparkling in his eyes. I wanted to tell him about the way we'd laughed together like it was the most natural thing I could have ever imagined. I wanted to rant and scream about how cruel Harry was to deny me even a second of his time.

  
I held it back though. It wasn't worth the backlash if Harry found out I'd spilled any details. I didn't know when I'd see him again, but I needed to preserve myself to be able to pull him back.

  
“My strongest suggestion is to give up now. He's not really worth the torture.”

  
I shrugged, “I disagree,” I said.

And that was the last Liam and I spoke of Harry before he left on his cruise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is a real pain the ass


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at why Harry is so messed up.

**Harry**

_I stood outside. It was raining. There was an arm wrapped around me, and I allowed myself to lean into the person holding me. I rested my head on his chest. I heard the person that was holding me crying. Only then did I realize that I was crying too. I looked around me and I realized where I was standing. I knew this place. I looked out at a field full of headstones and panic dripped into my stomach. My sobbing become erratic. I wanted to scream. I felt Ronnie's name on my tongue. I'd been here. I knew this place. Why was I there again?_

_I realized the arms wrapped around me were Niall's. He looked down at me and I could see the grief in his expression. I wanted to beg him for answers, but I was scared to know. We were standing in front of a six foot deep hole. Everyone was crying and the rain kept relentlessly falling like the day wasn't already bad enough. I searched for more faces. Someone else I knew. The only other face I saw that meant something to me was Liam's. Where was Tessa? Where was her mother? I'd been here before, but I didn't recognize any of it. No one here was a part of my past._

  
_Niall guided my body forward, and I gazed at the name written on the tombstone. I felt the need to vomit rise inside of me. I fell to the ground and Niall followed me. He crouched next to me and mumbled things that he thought would be helpful, but I couldn't function. Guilt. Grief. Total, complete sadness ate away at my stomach. I wanted to die. I wanted to die like everyone else died to get away from me. It wasn't fair. I had already lost everything so many times over. Did I have to lose him to?_

  
_A pastor said a whole bunch of words that didn't mean anything. Everyone thought that in death everything should suddenly make sense again. That something greater was to become of the person that was lost, but, like so many other times in my life, when it came to death, I was the only person who had a grip on reality. I lost him. I had lost him like I'd lost everything else I'd ever cared about. There was nothing that could make that hurt less. I'd lost him and it didn't make sense and it wasn't suddenly fair just because some people told me he'd “be better off” on the “other side”. There were no pearly gates. All that happened was I'd lost him. I'd be forced to carry on. I'd get the therapy if needed as I had in the past, and if attempt to build around the space he'd left. I'd start to forget him, just the same as I'd had with Ronnie. No one really lived on. They only existed until the people who loved them stopped remembering._

  
_Death was sick._

  
_Niall picked up my crumpled body from the ground and held be close._

  
_I buried my face in his jacket. “Louis,” I said and he pulled me closer._

...

  
My scream rocked through the room. I was alone. Really alone. I'd even gotten mad at Niall and refused to call him back and beg for forgiveness. I'd gone back to my flat and against every bit of better judgement I possessed, I had still gone to bed alone. I knew I'd have nightmares, because Louis himself was nothing but a nightmare.

  
Of course, after years of suffering my horrible complicated grief, I knew once Louis got under my skin that before he became something I coveted, he'd first become something I'd fear. I knew how these things worked, and boy did I fear him. There wasn't anything more frightening than the realization that I really felt something for him.

  
The guilt I felt was crushing. Ronnie's memory came flooding back over and over the more I thought about Louis. He refused to let me forget him, because it wasn't fair. I'd promised him all those years ago that I'd never forget. That I'd never let go, and then one day, Louis had walked in and made me go back on my word. How dare he demand so much of me? I couldn't just _forget_ Ronnie. He deserved more. Louis needed to find someone else to throw his misguided affection at.

  
I had kissed him. I'd _really_ , fucking kissed him. I'd kissed him like I'd never even known Ronnie's name. It wasn't fair. I didn't break promises. I needed to get him back. I needed to remember him. I needed to stop dreaming about Louis. I needed to refrain from ever kissing Louis. I needed to stay a million kilometers away from wherever that blue-eyed menace was.

 ...

 

When Sunday finally came, I met Niall at him game. Despite the tension I'd created days ago, Niall seemed to be fine. He didn't seem to give any of it a second thought. I thanked him internally for not inviting Louis to the game. Niall always had my back, even when I wasn't deserving of it. No matter how awful I was to the rest of the world, I somehow was able to rely on my loyal best friend to treat me the way I didn't deserve.

  
When his game had ended, we'd gone for lunch and then we'd ended up in his bed, mindlessly playing video games. After he'd beat me for the fifth time in a row, he threw his controller to the end of the bed and flicked off the television. He looked at me sternly.

  
“What did you do?”

  
I narrowed my eyes at him, “excuse me?” I snapped.

  
“To Louis. What did you do? I know you did something because you avoided me for days and I can clearly tell when someone gets their feelings hurt by you, and boy is Louis wounded. Why do you do that?”

  
For anyone else in the world, I'd have tried to hold it together, but for Niall I didn't try to be strong. I felt tears build in my eyes and before they fell, Niall pulled me to him. He stroked my hair softly, “I'm sorry,” he said and I knew he was sorry for making me cry, but I didn't deserve it.

  
“No, you're right,” I said. “I was an asshole,”

  
He laughed against me, “I think I'm used to it at this point.”

  
I laughed with him and lifted my head back up. I wiped away my tears and smiled at him. Niall was the best person in the world, without doubt. I trusted him with everything I'd never trusted someone else with. He made me laugh in the worst moods and got me through everything. Most of all, he continued, time after time, to forgive all of my misbehaviour. I wondered what possessed Niall to always stand next to me, even though I was wrong about 98% of the time. He would have defended me against anyone, even though he knew the kind of person I was. He was a gem.

  
“You had a bad few days,” he said knowingly. “The clear solution here is either alcohol or to actually talk about it,”

  
I raised my eyebrows. “How about both?”

  
He got out of the bed and returned to the room in record time with an armload of beer. I laughed at him as he popped open a beer and handed it to me.

  
“so tell me all about Louis' car,”

  
I rolled my eyes, “it exists, which was pretty surprising to me to be honest.”

  
Niall laughed, “you know what I mean, what happened inside of Louis’ car.”

  
I groaned. “Mistakes,” I said vaguely.

  
“So you had sex with Louis and then ran off like you always do.” It wasn't a question, he made it a statement. “Jesus Harry, he likes you, you know,”

  
My jaw nearly hit the floor, “Niall, I did not have _sex_ with Louis, oh my fucking God, I can't even believe you!”

  
Niall raised a suspicious eyebrow, “Okay, so then why are you both pouting?”

  
I buried my face in my hands. I was awful at talking about feelings. I felt my face blazing. “No, it was worse than that,”

  
He tore my hands away from my face, so I had to look at him. “What?” I asked, confused by his gesture.

  
“I just want to see your face when you admit you like him,”

  
“I wasn't going to say anything for the sort, actually,”

  
“Bullshit,” said Niall, tilting back his beer. “And why are you acting like it’s the worst thing to ever happen to you? I think Louis is a pretty safe bet.”

  
“Must I keep laying this out for you? I don't do relationships. That's what Louis wants. He isn't anything like the type of person if ever even want to be with, _if_ I even wanted to be with anyone. The whole thing is stupid and I never should have kissed him.”

  
Niall beamed from ear to ear and clapped me eagerly on the back. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” He said happily.

  
“Niall, shut up,” I begged. “It's bad now. Everything is bad. My dreams are back and Louis is ruining my god damn life. I was stable, and now it's all gone.”

  
“That's because you don't let go. Just let yourself feel something.”

  
I downed my whole beer, hoping for the buzz of being drunk enough to talk about these things to hit me a little faster.

  
“Harry, I know you think it's not safe to move on, but it's normal. It's what people do. You can't just stand back from everything because you feel bad that you didn't save Ronnie. He didn't want to be saved, you know? You _can_ save yourself though.”

  
“I stopped dreaming about him,”

  
“what does that mean?” Asked Niall.

  
“It means I need about four more of these before I'm even slightly ready to tell you what that means.” I said, waving my beer in the air.

  
“Alright, new question,” to his credit, Niall was excellent at working around my callous strangeness. “Why did you let Louis drive you home?”

  
“Because I got tired of not wanting him to.” My answers were cryptic, but Niall understood me.

  
“He came back here after, and Liam tried to get him to talk, but he wouldn't budge. For someone who you have been trying damn hard to get rid of, he seems to have picked up on your rules. He's keeping your secrets.”

  
I groaned again, hiding my face. “I'm not ready to date, Niall, I haven't got a fucking clue what he sees in me.”

  
Niall laughed, “that's ridiculous, you're a total dish. What is it you see in him?”

  
“Nothing,” I said, and wished desperately that I believed it.

  
I'd been forced to face the fact that I had a thing for Louis. It wasn't a momentous and joyous occasion. I wasn't ready for it. I didn't want it. I'd spent years in and out of therapy. I'd gone off and on every medication possible and I'd only just finally learned how to exist. I'd perfected the art of living alone and happily. I had friends, a career and I'd gone off all the previously mentioned medication. I felt good until Louis had walked in and ruined it all. My nightmares were back full force and all I could think about was my crushing guilt. I shouldn't like Louis. If I liked Louis I knew what that meant. It meant everything I'd ever lived was a lie.

  
Niall lifted my chin, “Harry, it's been seven years, it's okay if you're ready now. That's normal. You can't blame yourself forever.”

  
I sighed, Niall was reading everything like the intuitive asshole he was. He was always on the same page as me. It was irritating.

  
“I was doing so well,” I said, feeling idiotic and naked baring my feelings so freely.

  
“And Louis can't change that. You're strong Harry. Everything that happened to you made you strong. Louis isn't going to take that away from you. You did it, Harry, _you_ built yourself up after everything. No one else can possibly take that.”

  
“He already has,” I argued, “I'm having nightmares about him, Niall. That's not a good sign. I'm forgetting who I have always been because all I can think about is him. I just want things to be normal again.”

  
“that is normal Harry,” said Niall, like it was completely obvious. “What do you think Louis is doing? He's probably thinking about your dumb ass just as much.”

  
I dramatically fell back on the pillows, covering my face with my hair. “I can't possibly do any more feelings talk with you,” I groaned.

  
“All I'm saying is that you kissed him, and it obviously didn't suck because he came here to pout and you came here to pout, so it's obviously time for you to text him.”

 

After my third beer, I ventured out of Niall's room. It was a brave mission because I knew that there was a very big possibility that Louis was going to be somewhere in the flat. I wasn't ready to see him. I didn't know what to say.

  
Technically, I supposed, from everyone else's point of view, what I should have said was an apology, but honestly, I didn't know what an apology even was. I knew there was no way that my reaction to seeing him was going to involve me admitting I was an asshole, admitting I was attracted to him or begging him to give me another chance. Truthfully, the best outcome of the whole thing was that my horrible personality would push him away and he would go on to live a happy and carefree life so that I could do the same. Part of being a horribly volatile person meant that I hurt people in deep, horribly scarring ways. Louis was kind and funny and basically the sort of person who deserved someone more like himself. I didn't want to hurt him, but I was quite aware that if I let myself chase him down, I'd fuck him up. I fucked everyone up. I'd fucked up Ronnie. I'd fucked up Tessa because of Ronnie and I'm sure Niall was no longer the Saint he'd been when I had first met him. I broke things.

  
I safely made it to the bathroom without even hearing a peep of of Liam. When I got back to Niall's room I joined him on the bed.

  
“It's quiet here tonight,”

  
Niall laughed, seeing through me. “Yeah because Liam is spending the night at Louis’. He's leaving tomorrow and Louis is driving him. Why do you ask?” Joked Niall.

  
“I didn't ask, actually.”

  
“Just text him. He's not gonna make the next move, Harry. He hasn't got a fucking clue what's going on with you,”

  
“Well that makes two of us,”

...

_After all the time Niall made me spend talking about my feelings, I knew rationally, that I should have stayed the night. I should have stayed the night every night until I was finally able to shake Louis, but I went home because I wanted so badly to be okay._

  
_I stared at my alarm clack that told me it was 3:36. I groaned, my sleep has been so interrupted and I just kept waking back up. I rolled over and felt someone next to me. The skin was warm and soft, but I jumped anyway. I didn't let anyone spend the night in my bed. It wasn't possible that there was someone there. The body turned over and looked at me. I felt my heart jump into my throat._

  
_“You're forgetting me,” his voice was soft and I took in the angles of his face. He was right because I barely remembered what he looked like until I was face to face with him. I wanted to argue, but I_ was _forgetting him._

  
_“You promised me,” he said. “Everyone else has forgotten. I'm only here because you haven't yet,”_

  
_I reached my hand out to touch him, though after all this time he felt like a stranger. I put my hand on his arm and it was like ice. I pulled back instantly, looking at his face again._

  
_“Don't forget me Harry, you promised. I'm scared,”_

  
_I stared at his orange hair and his green eyes. I could remember staring at them for hours wondering how they could have told me so much, but now the light was gone from them. They didn't sparkle. They were glazed over. Turned to look at the alarm clock again. I didn't understand what was happening. When I turned back to him, everything had changed. His eyes were gone and replaced with empty sockets. I could smell rot and bile rose in my throat. His once beautiful face was lacking most of its flesh. I saw as worms made their way around his face._

  
_“I loved you Harry,” he said, but I barely understood because I was fairly certain that he no longer had all of his tongue. “You let me go,”_

  
_“No,” I said, tears filling my eyes._

  
_His flesh was falling from his bones. He lifted his hand and touched my cheek. “I have to go now,” he said. Fear was in the pit of my stomach. “I can't come back if you forget me, Harry.”_

 

My eyes shot open and I held my hand over my mouth, trying to stifle any potential screams. Immediately I felt beside me. No one was there. Of course no one was there. It hadn't been possible that Ronnie had just been there. Realistically I knew this, but he'd been right. It wasn't fair. I was forgetting him. That wasn't okay. He deserved more. I'd made him a simple promise and now, seven years later I was fucking it up. Everyone else had moved on. No one else remembered him anymore, but I'd promised him forever. I should have been able to follow through.

...

 

For the rest of the week, I tried to think about my work. I tried to think of the plans Niall and I had for the weekend. I tried to think about anything but my psychotic episode and my obsession with all things Louis. I almost sent him a text. I didn't know what I planned on saying, but I managed to fall asleep while staring at the blank message field. I was in way too deep. I needed badly to fuck up in a big way so Louis would stop being an option for me. I was fucked up in enough ways to drive almost anyone away, surely it couldn't be too hard to push Louis away.

... 

  
That Friday I had a photo shoot that I wasn't quite sure how I'd secured. I was taking album cover photos for a fairly famous band. I wasn't sure what part of my portfolio had made me seem qualified but it paid more than 3 times my normal rate. I was photographing the band in the studio, and when I got off the elevator, I looked around and one of the first things I saw was a platinum album plaque for that song Louis had written that I hated. I felt strangely out of place as I stood in the control room with my camera. I took pictures of the band inside of the recording booth for most of the morning, and when lunch time came, I welcomed the break. I began flipping through the pictures on my camera, deleting the ones that I knew were rubbish.

  
“Harry Styles,” the voice came from behind me.

  
I felt a shiver down the back of my neck. I recognized that voice and hated myself for it. Fear settled into my gut and I realized quickly that the easiest way to deal with this was to be myself.

  
“Oh, God, not you again.” I groaned, turning to see Louis, dressed as he always was in tight jeans and a jumper. He looked annoyingly good for someone who clearly put no effort into his outfits. He leaned against a wall, across the room in the sound booth, his eyes playful, like the small break we'd had had refreshed him and he was ready to deflect my cruelty again.

  
“Happy to see you, too,” his grin made his eyes crinkle and I wanted to physically harm myself for noticing his subtleties.

  
“What are you even doing here?” I snapped, wishing I had a way out of this conversation.

  
“Well, I certainly didn't come here for some more of our pleasant banter. This is where I work,”

  
His comment hurt, and I hated myself for feeling anything. Louis was ruining my god damned life.

 


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How come he's so afraid of falling in love?
> 
> Honestly, I've written better chapters.

Louis

I stared at Harry, a smile on my lips despite everything. I hadn't seen him since he had darted out of my car, but I still found myself excited to be standing in the same room as him. Admittedly, it was a setup. I'd done everything could to make sure Harry was hired for this photo shoot. He'd, of course, be the last to know this, but I didn't know how else to get close to him again. Liam was going to be gone for awhile, and I knew this was the only way I'd get to see him.

  
He was being cold again, but I didn't mind. Being in the room with him made me feel at ease in the oddest possible way. I could feel his discomfort, but that was only because he fought against everything. If he'd just give in, he'd be as comfortable as I was.

  
“So, there's a really great burger place around the corner. They have amazing chips. Come get lunch with me,” I said confidently.

  
He narrowed his eyes and cross his arms across his chest, “there are so many things wrong with what you just said. First off is I would never put something deep fried into my body. That's disgusting. Second, I'm definitely not going out for lunch with you. I'd rather starve.”

  
I chuckled at him, “you're so dramatic.”

  
He wanted to say something else, but I made my exit quickly. I could sense that he wanted to speak to me, so I had to make him wonder. I wanted him to believe I wasn't hanging on his every word, though I very clearly was. It was a chore and a half to try and deal with Harry, but I'd liked to have believed I was getting better and better at it. I think he was starting to feel something for me. Something that he was having a harder and harder time ignoring.

  
When I came back into the studio, Harry was sitting in the same spot, fooling with his camera. He didn't look up at me as I entered the room. I handed him a large cup full of some disgusting green looking liquid. He looked up at me in confusion. I waved it back and forth at him, “just take the drink Harry,” I said.

  
He took it carefully from my hand and narrowed his eyes at me. “What is it?” He said

  
“Some disgusting looking green smoothie with kale,” I said.

  
He looked at me suspiciously, “what makes you think I'd even like this?”

  
“I pay attention,” I said. “You're a health nut. I've heard you talk about that very smoothie to Niall, now stop playing coy and drink up,”

  
He wrapped his lips around the straw and nodded, “it's good,” was all he said.

  
“I somehow seriously doubt that,” I joked, “I much prefer real food,” I said removing the wrapper from my burger.

  
Harry shook his drink in the air, “this is real food,” he argued, “it's not processed rubbish,”

  
“You're exhausting,” I said, watching him as he kept somehow sipping that god awful smoothie without so much as one small gag. It was amazing really, that he was able to choke it back so easily.

  
Harry watched me with suspicion in his eyes while I ate my burger. I wanted to ask him a series of very important questions: number one was _what the fuck?_ number two was, _who the hell are you?_ Number three was _why did you get in the car with me?_ and the final three most important ones were, _why did you kiss me? Why did you bolt after such a great kiss and finally, can you please please please kiss me again?_

  
I said none of these things I just continued to stare back at him like an idiot. Harry was the only person who made me feel like a complete fool. I had no idea what I should have been doing. My confidence was faltering, despite the fact that I now knew that he liked me. I wasn't confident because for the first time ever, the fact that he liked me was completely irrelevant to the situation. In fact it made things worse because it gave him a reason to just keep on pushing me away. I didn't know how much more I could take.

  
"How much longer are we going to do this for?" I said suddenly

  
He lifted his eyebrow at me but didn't stop sucking on his straw. After a moment of thought, he finally spoke. “Do what, exactly?"

  
“I mean how much longer are you going to try and and push me away? I mean I've been pretty honest with you. I like you Harry, and you like me, but you insist on playing it off as otherwise, but I know I'm right. I just want a timeline. How much harder are you going to make me work?”

  
Harry sighed, “I have learned to tolerate you because we have the same friends, but I really think you have the wrong idea. I'm definitely not interested in you, Louis.”

  
I sighed deeply, “okay, so we’re gonna keep doing this then?” I nodded my head. “Alright. I'm game, but only because I think you're worth the effort.”

  
"You are honestly the most annoying person in the world,” said Harry.

  
“You've mentioned that,” I said, grinning at him.

  
He looked at me harshly, but my smile didn't falter. I stared directly into his bright green eyes. He was trying to be stern and angry as he looked at me, but my smile made him falter. He started to laugh uncontrollably. I saw the joy sparkle in his eyes as he tried to mask his natural reaction with anger. He fought with himself, trying to regain his composure.

  
“I never should have taken this job,” he said, and I started to laugh with him, and just as we had in my car, we laughed together in perfect harmony. I wanted to scream at Harry for making everything so difficult. Our natural chemistry was unparalleled. Could he not feel it?

  
“Why do you hate me?” I blurted.

  
His smile was still on his lips as he met my eyes, “I don't.” I tied to hide my shock at the truth in his answer.

  
“I know that,” I said, “but why do you try so hard to convince me you do?”

  
His frown returned then and I tasted regret on my tongue for demanding answers I knew he'd never give.

  
“Because you ask dumb questions like that instead of just having a nice time,”

  
I got up from my seat. He watched me as I moved to the door of the sound booth. “Come with me,” I said.

  
“My answer isn't going to change, Louis. It's always going to be a ‘no’.”

  
“I didn't ask,” I argued. “Besides, you were a serious asshole to me, you have some making up to do. I just want to show you something cool,”

  
I knew he'd give in. This time I was certain of it.

  
“Still a ‘no’,” he brushed me off, “thanks for the smoothie, though” he'd picked up his camera again and was fiddling with it and refusing to make eye contact with me.

  
“bring your camera,” I said, holding the door open.

  
He looked over to me this time, an expression I couldn't translate on his face. “Don't you get it?” He said.

  
“No, actually,” I said matter-of-factly, “I don't get anything about you, but I'm trying. Can't I have a chance?”

  
“I don't give chances,”

  
“So the thing I want to show you is only good on one of the 6 sunny days of the year, so I'm gonna need you to come with me because I don't know when the sun will be back, and I also don't know when I'm gonna see you next.” I ignored his last comment.

  
He was mad that I kept making him change his mood. I saw him fight with a grin. An impossible blush lit up his face. I smiled back at him.

  
“I'm not asking you to marry me, Harry. I'm just asking if I can show you something nice,”

  
he stood up and my own joyous grin sparked his smile. “I'm only coming to shut you up.”

  
“I'll take it,” I said, reaching for Harry's hand. I held it tightly and I heard him growl my name in protest, but he didn't snatch it away. I dragged him to the elevator.

  
As we stood in the silence, I looked up to his eyes, smiling in a genuine way I couldn't help. I'd let his hand go, but I stood as close to him as he'd let me. We took the elevator to the top floor and when I dinged and the doors opened, I took his hand again and led him toward a stairwell. The stairs were barely lit and I could feel his apprehension as I continued to pull him toward the top of the stairs. Finally, we reached a door and I let go of his hand to pull out my keys. I unlocked the door and he tentatively followed me through it. We were on the roof then, and I knew he found it impressive. He tried to hide it, but the artist in him took in the London skyline.

  
“This is my secret hangout spot,” I said, walking toward the edge of the building.

  
Harry followed me. He picked up his camera almost instantly and started to snap a few pictures. I watched him closely, feeling his passion. It was refreshing to see people doing the things they loved the most.

  
“It's cool,” he said softly.

  
The tension was there again as he stood next to me. I wanted more than anything to kiss him in some cheesy romantic way on the rooftop like we were in a movie, but I was unsure. Last time I'd attempted something so obvious, he had tried to exile me from his life. The feeling didn't pass as I watched him looking out across the skyline. He was beautiful. Every inch of his face was perfect. He didn't have a single imperfection. His long curly hair suited him perfectly and all I could think of was how it felt to have my fingers wrapped through his curls. I couldn't stand staring at him and not doing anything for another second. I walked away from him, and he looked at me with confusion.

  
I went around the corner and took a seat on the sofa that was there. To my surprise, and pleasure, Harry followed me. He hovered in front of the couch, not sure if he wanted to fight against it some more or if he wanted to give in and sit with me. I patted the spot next to me. His eyes met mine for a moment and I saw the desire I'd seen in my car. He wasn't fighting himself as well. I had to tiptoe around it, but I was determined to make it last this time.

  
He took the seat next to me.

  
“I'm confused about what it is you do here,” he admitted, “you said you wrote songs. Why do you have the keys to a secret rooftop hangout?”

  
I shrugged, “I produce too,”

  
“So you're a big shot,”

  
I laughed, stretching my arm out across the back of the couch. He watched me with suspicion, but stayed at the far end of the couch. “Not really, I'm the baby. I mostly dabble at everything. I'm learning.”

  
“Hmm,” he said.

  
“I started writing with Liam,” I said conversationally.

  
Harry nodded slowly, “Liam's a great singer,”

  
I nodded, barely paying attention to the conversation. I was memorizing the way Harry's lips moved when they spoke.

  
“I think I mentioned it before,” he said, “but I'm very aware that you're staring at me.”

  
I laughed, “does it bug you?”

  
He nodded, “I don't think I'm the person you're hoping I am.”

  
“Who do you think I want?”

  
“Someone to cuddle and pay bills with,”

  
I laughed at his statement, “wrong,” I said. I think he moved closer to me, but maybe I was mistaken. “I don't want someone to settle down with, I want someone to run wild with,”

  
He definitely moved closer to me after that. We were quiet for a moment and then I heard Harry's phone chime as he got a text. He ignored it and stared at the skyline, but then it started to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the caller id. He pressed ignore and I noticed Niall's name on the screen.

  
“You ignored Niall for me? I'm flattered really.”

  
I reached out and grabbed his phone, he shrieked angrily, trying to snatch it back from me. I opened it up quickly, jumping straight for the contacts. “You should really put a passcode on here,” I said, and a stupid proud grin made its way onto my face as I found a contact with my name and a kissy emoji next to it. “I see you already know a Louis Tomlinson,” I handed the phone back to him. “Seems like you like him better than me. I'd be lying if I didn't say I was jealous.”

  
“Niall put it there,” he argued.

  
“And you rushed to delete it,” I said, sliding toward him on the couch, I kept my arm across the back of the couch, fitting him into my side.

  
“How many nights must you have stayed up staring at it, wondering if you should text me?” I joked, pulling him closer to me. “Yet I haven't received a single text message. I'm wounded,” I grasped my chest dramatically.

  
Then, once again, just when I was sure I knew what was going on, Harry gave up. He pulled his knees up on the couch and rested his head perfectly comfortably against my chest. His arm snaked around my lower back and he gripped my hip. He rested his other hand against my chest. I couldn't move. I didn't dare speak. Harry was like a wild animal. If I moved too much, he was sure to bolt.

  
“You can stop talking now,” He mumbled into my chest and I felt my whole body ignite with desire for him. His breath was warm and it smelled like that awful smoothie he'd been drinking, and I found myself finally curious what it actually tasted like. I got the feeling that from Harry's lips it wouldn't taste nearly as bad as I'd imagined.

  
Again, so many questions bubbled to my lips, but I didn't say a thing. He let me hold him just like I'd wanted to do all along. Everything was so different with Harry. Liam had assured me that the only thing Harry was ever interested in was casual sex, yet every time he let me closer to him, it was much more intimate than that. I saw the meaning behind it all. Harry didn't do this sort of thing for everyone. This was different for him, but he felt a pull toward me. I didn't know what to really do with this knowledge. I couldn't risk anything. I didn't want to scare him, so I just held him like a mute idiot.

  
Eventually his confusion got the better of him.

  
“You shut up,” he said, rubbing my chest in the most distracting way ever.

  
“Too risky,” I mumbled, feeling his hand as it moved torturously across my shirt.

  
“Hmm,” he said, continuing his mission to ruin my life. His hand slid underneath my shirt and I knew that surely I'd explode. His perfect, soft, warm hand slid across my stomach, settling against my bare skin.

  
“You're cruel,” I mumbled.

  
He laughed into my chest, “Hardly,” his breath tickled across my neck and I felt goosebumps emerge across my entire body.

  
I held him tightly as I felt with my body. I'd never wanted someone the way I wanted Harry in that moment. My body was calling for him, but I needed to fight against it. I got the feeling that having sex with Harry wouldn't be that hard, what would be hard would be getting him to speak to me again after.

  
His hand stayed still on my chest, but I could feel electricity pulsing from the spot where his hand laid. There was a deep ache in my stomach as I fought against my body. I didn't want to embarrass myself by making Harry assume Anything. I didn't know how to keep my desire from him. I wanted him right then and there. Lust made my vision blurry as I tried to keep my cool. Harry's lips found my neck. I didn't know what was happening. The world was spinning. My excitement happened the moment his lips found my skin. I felt myself get hard, despite all the effort is put in to not let him know how I felt. His lips trailed across my skin until I felt his breath in my ear. The world melted. My strongest urge was to find his lips and kiss him hard and deep, but more than anything, I just wanted to know him.

  
“Louis,” he breathed in my ear. _What was he thinking?_ I'd have given anything in that moment to have been a mind reader.

  
Somehow, even though I was paralyzed, my hand found its way to Harry's hair. My fingers wrapped themselves around his long hair without my command. I was human. I possessed a body. I couldn't be held accountable for the fact that I reacted to Harry's advances. Of course I wanted to sleep with him. The issue was that I wanted to have sex with him _and_ sleep with him. I wanted to know what his breath tasted like when he woke up. I wanted to know If he slept on his stomach or his back. How he dreamed, if he snored. I wanted him to drool all over my pillows and use up all the shampoo in my shower and order take away Chinese at 2 am with me. I didn't just want to _sleep_ with him. I wanted to wake up with him. These were two very different things.

  
“Harold,” I mumbled, stupidly.

  
“Louis,” he said again.

  
“Are you trying to seduce me?” All I had was humour to get me out of this situation.

  
Harry didn't speak. He kissed my neck softly and exhaled in my ear. It wasn't _fair._

  
“You _are_ cruel,” I said.

  
He didn't laugh. I didn't know if I was even joking by that point. “What do you mean,” every word he said floated across my skin and made it impossible for me to respond in normal time. I had to think out every single word while my body fought me to just give in. Maybe I wouldn't win. Maybe this was all Harry would ever give me. Maybe I'd fuck it all up by saying something stupid. But I had to think rationally. If I let Harry have his way and he proceeded to never speak to me again, I'd be broken.

  
“Harry, I’ll gladly have sex with you,” I muttered as I felt his tongue trail down my neck, “but I'm still going to call you after, you know that right?”

  
His movements stopped and I held him tighter, like I could somehow prevent him from detaching. “You're ruining it, Louis.” He muttered and I could feel his desire to flee.

  
“Hear me out,” I begged.

  
“You see, Louis, this is why I keep telling you I'm not interested. You want to fucking talk about everything, do you ever just shut up and act?”

  
And there it was, I'd known it was coming. I'd tried to bring him closer, but of course I'd only pushed him further. Harry was exhausting. Why did he do this? Why was I so insistent on begging for more? It was more than obvious that he didn't want to give in. A reasonable person would have just taken him for what he was.

  
“Do you ever let yourself feel?” I argued, boldly.

  
He shook my arms off of him and got up from the couch. “See, that's your problem, Louis. You push and push thinking that everyone should be just like you.” He angrily swept his hair from his face and I couldn't help but be attracted to the passion I saw sizzling in his eyes. “Not everyone is like you. I don't want to _be_ with you-I don't want to be with _anybody_. I don't understand why that's so hard for you to get! You wonder why I keep walking away from you, but it's obvious! I'm trying to give you what I can. I didn't want to even spend time with you, and then that changed and I decided maybe I _do_ want to sleep with you, but that's still not good enough for you! I'm never going to want more than that. Take it or leave it.”

  
“I'm sorry,” I said, confused about where else I could go. Maybe I had fucked up. Maybe it was possible I was forcing my ideals on Harry. Maybe he wouldn't change. Maybe this was the most I'd get. I didn't want him to be right because I didn't know if would ever be the kind of person who could settle for so little.

  
“I don't care,” said Harry. He started to walk away from me.

  
I wanted to scream or cry or grab him and make him stay, but I did none of those things. I sat there like an idiot and watched him leave.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, more dark flashbacks for Haz


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Harry is finally starting to see things in a new light.

Harry

I hated Louis. For real this time. I wasn't about to let him win me over. I was sick of him having all the control. I wasn't going to do it anymore. I had never regretted a job nearly as much as I did that band photo shoot because after I'd tried to dramatically leave Louis sitting on that stupid rooftop, I'd had to face him again in the sound booth. If it weren't for the healthy paycheque, I'd definitely have just left. Stupid Louis was exhausting. What kind of man turned down sex? Louis was more fucked up than I'd anticipated.

  
More importantly, why had I even momentarily thought that having sex with him would have been a good idea? He was probably awful at it. I tried to imagine his tiny little hobbit-sized self naked. A shiver ran down my spine. His skin was so soft and sweet…

  
_Shut up._

  
I was done. I was done with the whole thing. I was done going to Niall's house. I wouldn't do it anymore. I needed this Louis thing to blow over. I needed sanity to return to my life.

...

 

But soon it was Friday night and I found myself playing video games with Niall yet again. He fed me some kind of tofu stir fry (which he hated, but I loved), poured me beer after beer and brought out an arsenal of junk foods that were my weakness and he rented movies for us on his pay-per-view. It was all very suspicious and I found myself wondering what on earth I was missing. It wasn't my birthday and I'd met Niall around Christmas time, so it wasn't possibly our friend-aversary. I didn't have a clue what it was all for, but I played along. I let Niall shower me in friendship for hours before it hit me.

  
_I'd forgotten_. I'd fucking forgotten the one thing that defined me for the past seven years.  
Suddenly, feeling hit me like a 5 ton truck. I looked over at Niall and he caught me just as my feelings started to spew from my eyes and mouth.

  
“I forgot!” I cried and he held me close.

  
Ronnie’s rotten flesh and eyeball-less expression appeared in my mind. I remembered what I felt to be next to him, to smell his decay. It had never been like that before. Before he'd only appeared to me neatly and just the way I remembered him. He'd always been his old, perfect self. Sometimes, on the bad days, I'd seen the bruises from the rope around his neck, but I'd never seen him for what he very clearly was—a rotting corpse.

  
I didn't know what to say to Niall. Niall, who had remembered my worst day and had done everything in his power to make it okay.

  
“I forgot,” I said again.

  
Niall just held me tighter. He didn't speak. He knew just what I needed. I needed Niall to be my soundboard, my rock. I needed him to hold me and listen as I beat myself up.

  
“I've never forgotten before,” I whined, tears burning my eyes. I breathed so deeply I thought my chest would explode. “You didn't even know him and you remembered,” I tried to catch my breath but breathing felt impossible. The guilt crushed me.

  
“It's okay,” Niall said finally.

  
“I can't remember his voice,” I felt panic inside of me.

  
Niall held me tightly as I shook against him, “you're panicking,” his voice was soft and calm and exactly what I needed. “You haven't forgotten him, Harry,” Niall was always so reasonable and always made so much sense. “You've just been busy living. He wouldn't blame you for that.”

  
“you're wrong,” I said.

  
“The living continue to live, Harry. You can't keep grasping to him--you're allowed to be alive, otherwise, what's the point?”

  
I couldn't say anything else, because objectively, he was right. He always was, but rationally, he didn't know shit. He didn't understand the promises I had made. He didn't know what it was like to lose so much and then be guilty of forgetting something so vital.

  
I'd told Niall the whole story countless times. I'd told him about the phone call, the desperation in Ronnie's voice. About how I'd shown up too late. About the peonies I'd put inside of his coffin. About the bruises on his neck, the way they hadn't styled his hair quite the way he'd always worn it. About the coffin that had matched his that had been placed next to him just mere weeks later. About how many times I'd picked out my own coffin.

  
But even after all he'd done with me, all I'd shared with him, there was really no way Niall could understand that level of loss.

  
“Thank you,” I mumbled into his shirt.

  
“Harry, I'm always going to be here for you.”

  
Countless people had told me that very thing, but no one but Niall had ever made me believe it.

  
“I know,” I said.

My crying had turned into a migraine and Niall had given me aspirin and a glass of water. I'd exhausted myself and I laid flat on my stomach while Niall rubbed my back and told me stories about him and his brother playing football as kids. My mind drifted off as I'm sure he intended, and I was asleep in no time. My dreams were relaxed and I was still vaguely aware of Niall talking and rubbing my back.

First, I saw Niall and Ronnie playing football. I laughed as they pranced across the field and Tessa sat next to me. Ronnie was terrible at football. The entertainment was boundless, and it was amazing to see just how well Ronnie fit into my grown up life. I draped my arm around Tessa’s shoulder as she sat to my left. The stands were littered with people watching the game Ronnie and Niall were playing. There was a lightness in my chest, a calm floating all around me. Someone sat down next to me and handed me a bag of popcorn. I felt a kiss on my cheek, stubble rubbing against me. I looked over and saw Louis’ bright grin. I was in some kind of weird reality where Louis and Ronnie existed together. Louis swept me into a kiss that left shivers running down my spine. When we broke apart I looked across the field and all I could see was Niall. I didn't see Ronnie anywhere. Sickness creeped into my stomach and the sky darkened. The colour drained first from louis’ eyes and then from the whole scene. I turned to Tessa and tried to scream. Nothing came out of my mouth. Her face was gone and she was replaced with the same rotten gaze that Ronnie had had. I keeled over and puked down my shirt. I felt a hand rubbing my back. Louis was trying to comfort me, but when I turned to my other side, he was gone—like he'd never even been there.

  
The crowd parted on the field and I saw Ronnie walking toward me. At first, he was his normal self, but the closer he got the more his walk changed from a confident strut to a zombie-like stagger. His orange hair started to fall from his head, along with bits of his flesh. The closer he got, the more I smelled the decay. I'd spent the last 7 years wishing that I could have him back, but in that moment I wished I could have been anywhere but surrounded by the dead. Tess’s hand grasped mine, panic behind the gesture. I felt a cold fear inside of my chest as her rotten hand clung to mine.

  
“You forgot him,” she Cried. I could hear the tears in her voice, but her decaying body made crying an impossibility. “You forgot me,”

  
I tried to speak. I wanted to tell her that she was wrong. I had never forgotten, but my voice was gone.

  
Ronnie’s face appeared in front of me, “I knew you'd forget,” he said, and again I tried to argue. “You grew up and you forgot me.”

  
“No,” I mouthed the words, the lack of ability to speak made me feel a full panic.

  
“I knew you'd forget because I haven been able to feel you lately,”

  
I shook my head back and forth. Ronnies voice wasn't the way it had always been. It was muffled and deeper, but I found I could barely remember what he had sounded like.

  
“Louis,” said Tess, gripping my hand with her own rotten, bony hand.

  
Ronnie made a hissing sound and my eyes shot open.

I looked down at my wrist. Tessa’s hand wasn't there, but I still felt it. I could still smell them, rotting in the middle of the night in Niall's room. There was no way any of it had been real. Normal people couldn't carry on conversations with dead people. I felt myself gagging against the smell. Niall's body shot up and he started to rub my back again.

 

“Can you smell that?” I asked, bile rising and burning the back of my throat.

  
“Smell what?” I heard the nerves in Niall's voice.

 

“Ronnie,” I mumbled, my hand over my mouth. “Tessa.”

  
“you were dreaming Harry,” Niall reminded me. “You're in London in my bedroom. They're not here. They're in Holmes chapel.”

  
God, Niall made so much sense it must have been exhausting to deal with me. Here I was, waking up from dreams and gagging from a smell that didn't even exist.

  
“What was your dream about?” Niall asked bravely. He knew the only time I'd give him real details was when I was in the frightened state between sleep and wakefulness.

  
“you were there. I was an adult—I'm never an adult in the dreams with him—Louis was there. Then Ronnie got mad and then they were dead. They were like zombies.” A shiver ran down my spine. “The smell,” I shuddered at the memory.

  
“It's okay Harry, it was just a dream.”

  
“They're mad because I forgot,”

  
Niall sighed deeply, “I know you don't want to forget because you feel bad, but that's how it works. You had to grow up and keep living. There's no crime in that.”

  
I shook my head back and forth so hard I felt dizzy. Tears poured from my eyes. If Louis and Niall would just understand, maybe my dreams would go away. They didn't know what if was like to promise a person on the verge of death that I'd love them forever--that'd I'd keep them alive by remembering. They didn't have a clue and they pushed me to forget. It was awful. Poor Ronnie was dying all over again because I couldn't control my wandering thoughts. Louis was taking up too much of my brain power. I didn't want him to fit so easily into my dreams. My dreams were how I kept Ronnie alive. Louis didn't belong there. It was the last place Ronnie had.

  
“You don't get it, Niall.” I said, wiping away my tears, “people die and they get forgotten. He's only here for as long as I remember him, Tess too. When I stop remembering, they stop mattering. Don't you understand?” I was crying like a child. 

  
“Oh, Harry.” He said his words so lightly and swept me into his arms, tighter than normal.

  
He didn't say anything else and I just wept like a baby. What a vacation it would be for me to have the chance to be anyone but myself. I just wanted to be normal. To be able to sit next to someone who was clearly perfect on a roof top on a perfect sunny day and not have to fight against it. I wanted to be normal, but it was a pipe dream. I'd never be that. I could never unlive the things I'd been through.

 

I woke up feeling oddly normal. I didn't remember any more of my dreams and that was the greatest blessing I could think of. I let Niall sleep late and made pancakes. It was the least I could do for all he did for me. When he did wake up, we sat at the table together and he made me laugh over and over while we ate.

  
“I'm going to Ireland next week for a tournament,” he said. “You coming?”

  
I'd known about this tournament for a long time, but it hit me just in that moment that I was going to be alone in London while he was gone. I couldn't go with him because I had too many work commitments. I groaned.

  
“I can't,” I whined, “don't go without me.”

  
He give me a light chuckle, though I knew he understood where my fears really originated. I was afraid to be without him because it meant I'd have to face my demons on my own.

“Liam is gonna be back by then,” he offered, like Liam would ever be able to make up for the absence of feel without him.

  
“You better win,” I said, “otherwise your abandonment will be for nothing.”

  
He laughed and took another bite of pancake. After he'd swallowed, he put down his fork and laid both of his arms on the table. He looked at me in a serious way and I almost sensed what was coming.

  
“So how was that photo shoot with the band?"

  
“You asshole!” I slammed my fist on the table.  

  
Niall grinned at me.

  
“I should have known it was a set up,” I rolled my eyes at him.

  
“Well, Harry, like it or not, as your best friend I know what's best for you. I want you to give Louis a chance,”

  
There was a heavy sadness in my chest. I didn't know how to talk to Niall about this. “Drop it,” I felt the hollowness inside of me.

  
“That bad?” Niall probed.

  
I rolled my eyes at him, “I'm done.”

  
“That hardly seems fair,” said Niall, “you didn't even give him a chance.”

  
“Actually, you don't know shit,” I got up from the table.

  
“Harry,” said Niall, “just sit down and talk to me.”

  
“You want the truth, Niall?” I was angry, my voice shrieked loudly through the room. “The truth is I hate Louis because he's too good for me! I'll never be kind and thoughtful like him. He's normal, Niall, and I want to be around him all the time so I can feel normal too. I don't just want to have sex with him and leave, I want to spend nights with him, but I can't do that because I have fucking night terrors. I can't just be with Louis because he'd never understand me. He wouldn't know what to do with someone as fucked up as me. I promised a dead guy I wouldn't ever love someone else and I'm a fucking liar, Niall!”

  
Niall was standing now, watching my outburst unfold. He was waiting for the breakdown, but I just kept yelling.

  
“I like him, and he likes me and it's not fair because I could never make it work! I can't stop dreaming about Ronnie. I can't stop being afraid. I can't stop feeling like a fucking liar, a fucking joke. The guilt kills me because I think about Louis more than I think about Ronnie. I'm losing him, and once I've lost him, I'm going to fuck things up with Louis and then I won't have anything. Don't you see, Niall? I'll never be able to do this. I can't take the chance and lose them both. I need to keep my promise.”

  
I tried to dramatically walk out of the room, because I'd said way too much. It wasn't that Niall didn't know all of these things but even when we did talk about serious things it was mostly just Niall asking and me agreeing. When is told him about Ronnie, I'd typed it all over text. I never spoke like this. I felt stupid and naked.

Niall grabbed my arm, "Harry, don't leave,"

  
"What do you want from me?" Then was the time I finally broke down. Tears fell from my eyes because i had finally been honest. Niall reached over and wiped away the tears that fell down my cheek.

  
"I guess I didn't realize how bad it was," he said, guilt in his voice. "There is so much wrong with what you just said."

  
I shook my head back and forth, not ready to hear Niall's extremely biased opinion of me. "You know I'm right Niall. I've been trying to keep Ronnie for years, now he's fading away from me, and I've already fucked up with Louis. I know I'll do worse."

  
"Have you talked to him?"

  
"Talked to who?" I said the words, but regretted them immediately because I knew that for most people it wouldn't have been a question. Most people didn't talk to their dead boyfriends. Obviously Niall meant Louis. I felt embarrassment colour my cheeks, but Niall never made me feel crazy.

  
"Louis,"

  
"Of course I haven't,"

  
"I know this is beyond your comfort zone, but just let yourself be, Harry. Just stop trying to control everything. If you feel something for him, just let it happen."

  
"You don't get it, though. There's too much to lose. It's not Louis I'm worried about--it's me. I'm too much. I don't even know how you can be my friend most of the time. I'm too much to handle. Not matter how pretty he thinks I am, or how much he likes me, the moment will come where he realizes I'm too much for him and I'm not prepared to deal with what happens after that."

  
"Harry, I deal with you because you're not too much. So what if you need me sometimes. My grandma died and you were there for me when i needed you. So what if you have a scary past? Everyone has a past. It doesn't define you. You're amazing and thoughtful and strong. Things might work out with Louis, but you're never going to know unless you make the effort."

Most of me knew what I wanted. More than I felt the desire to hang on and hang on to Ronnie, I wanted to be near Louis. It controlled me. I hadn't thought of anything else in weeks. I wanted to be in the same room as him. I'd obsessively learned every word to every song he'd written. I had spent an unhealthy amount of hours staring at his contact information in my phone. What a foolish amount of power we both had. Louis had changed me. He controlled every second of my thoughts, but I also felt very aware that if I asked, he would easily give in. I had no power and too much of it all at once. If I sent him a text, he'd respond. It was simple math. If I told him to leave me alone forever, he wouldn't like it but he'd do it.

  
Even though I knew how I felt, I also knew how it would end. I'd ruin it. I'd shower Louis in my darkness. I'd take away his ability to sleep because he'd be too busy caring for me. I'd control him. I'd be aloof and he'd be pouring confessions at me that if feel but never know how to reciprocate. I'd mess up time and time again, no matter what I felt.

...

By the time Liam returned home, my resolve was almost completely warn down. I wanted to talk to Louis. I wanted to actually sit with him and have a conversation. I tried to formulate a plan. Maybe Louis was settle. Maybe he would let me be his friend. Maybe we could try to find common ground. I didn't know how to ask him for that. All I could do was hope that when I went to Niall and Liam's place that Louis would be there too. It was Thursday and Niall was leaving the next morning. I had one chance. Once Niall was gone, I didn't really have a plan. I didn't know when I'd see Louis, or how I'd feel without Niall there to act as a buffer.

  
To my incredible dismay, even after two hours of waiting, Louis never showed up. I couldn't go any longer without probing for an answer. I looked at Liam.

  
"Where is your cling on anyway?"

  
Niall's face lit up, because of course stupid Niall was still rooting for me being a normal person.

  
Liam didn't understand me the way Niall did. He was Louis' friend. He wanted what was best for Louis. Liam liked me, but he didn't see through me the way Niall did, which made me suspicious. He wanted what was best for Louis, and rightfully he knew that wasn't me. I tried not to be offended as his words cut through the room.

  
"He doesn't want to hang out here, and I'm sure you can imagine what the reason is."

  
I feel a chill behind his words.

  
"Easy," said Niall, always jumping to my defence.

  
"Harry has been an asshole, do you want me to pretend otherwise? He's screwed around with Louis and now he's pouting because Louis is not at his beck and call for more torture? I'm not gonna sugar coat things just because he's your best friend."

  
Liam left the room.

  
I stared at Niall, who looked like he expected me to breakdown. I refused. Liam wasn't wrong. Louis was being perfectly reasonable given the way I'd treated him. Of course he was avoiding me. What better course of action did he have to avoid being further tortured by a certifiably crazy weirdo who had regular conversations with dead people?

  
"I didn't realize Liam was coming home with an attitude," said Niall finally.

  
I laughed darkly, "he didn't. I appreciate you standing up for me, but I have treated Louis like crap. He's just calling me on my shit."

  
Niall shrugged, "so fix it. Stop treating him like crap and text him. I know you didn't delete his number."

  
I sighed dramatically, "it's better this way."

  
"You're right, Harry. I'd much rather see both of you totally miserable. I don't know how I could have thought otherwise."

 

Niall went to bed early. He was leaving at a ghastly hour. I'd planned on staying with him, but once midnight hit, my restlessness got the better of me. I crawled carefully out of Niall's bed and tiptoed toward Liam's room. I saw his light glowing along the cracks of his door. I knocked softly and poked my head through the crack. Liam was sitting behind his mac, fiddling with music as he always was. He took the headphones off his ears and looked up at me.

  
“You're not wrong.” I said quietly, “I have been a complete idiot with Louis,”

  
Liam looked at me with confusion, “what sparked this late-night admission of guilt?”

  
“Honestly, even though I'm in no position to ask, I wanted a favour."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry's not so bad. Maybe the next chapter will prove this?


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is making solid life decisions

Harry

I stared down at my phone and typed out a million things before I finally settled on three obvious words. _I messed up_. I hovered my thumb over the send button. I felt a sickness in my stomach that I wasn't used to. I'd already come so far. All I had to do was press send. It was one in the morning. I couldn't stand there forever having internal debates. I forced my thumb down and felt regret instantly as I heard the whoosh sound that notified me that my message had been sent. I needed to vomit. I needed to scream. I wanted to run like I'd never ran before.

  
Almost instantly I saw three dots appear that told me that he was writing a response. Fear weighed me down, but I pushed forward and lifted my wrist and knocked on the door in front of me. Before he'd formulated a response to my text, Louis opened the door to his apartment. Most of me expected backlash. I anticipated anger and dismay. Why, after all the things I'd said and done, would he even have opened the door?

  
But instead of all the things I'd expected, he met me with a perfect smile on his face, like I was the greatest gift he'd gotten at his 8th birthday party. And that was the thing, I realized, that made Louis so great. I always knew how he felt. He was about to say something, but I shook my head slowly.

  
“I had a boyfriend once,” I told him, feeling parts of my soul exposed to the air for the first time ever. “He died.”

  
Louis wanted to speak, but I put my hand over his mouth.

  
“I'm messed up,” I said quietly, “I don't know if I can give you everything, but you're right. I do like you. I like you a stupid amount and I'm sorry for being such a royal fucking jackass,”

  
“You're forgiven,” he said instantly.

  
“Just like that?” I obviously knew I didn't deserve to get off so easily.

  
“Just like that,”

  
I smiled then, because I had forgotten in the week and a half that I hadn't seen him, just how easy it was to be around him. He was full of simple honesty. He made me feel comfortable.

  
“Friends?” I asked foolishly.

  
His eyes crinkled with his grin, “if that's all you want.”

  
God, I wanted to kiss him. It felt like the progression of this conversation called for it. I felt like we were in a movie and this was my grand gesture and now I had to seal it all with a kiss, but I was still me. I was still scared.

  
“For now,” I reached out and ruffled his hair.

  
Fired burned in his eyes, he felt it too. There was an electricity between us. I felt stupid and awkward because I knew now that I'd made it very clear to Louis that I needed to make the rules. I knew that whatever happened from this point was my decision.

  
I turned then to leave before I had a chance to screw anything up and I felt his hand on my wrist. That desire to kiss him burned deep as he forced me to turn around.

  
“You can come in,” he said softly. I wanted to, but I was also afraid that once I got inside I'd freak out. I didn't know what would spark a panic in me and I didn't know if I should risk it.

  
“Next time,” I said, his hand was still on my wrist.

  
I saw the plea in his eyes. He wanted me to stay. I wanted me to stay. I didn't have a clue what I was doing.

  
“Niall is leaving for Ireland in the morning,” I said, making up the most stupid excuses I could think of. “I wanted to stay the night with him.”

  
Louis stared back at me, a smug smile set on his face. He knew I was full of shit. I laughed at the look on his face.

  
“It's okay, Harry.” He said, a laugh coming from him. “Come in, or don't. It's totally up to you.”

  
“You know nothing should be up to me, right? I'm not capable of making decisions.”

  
“Come in, then. I insist. We can drive Niall in the morning.”

  
I felt stupid because my grin was so big it was starting to hurt my face. I walked past him and stood stupidly in the entrance way and heard him close the door.

  
I looked around. His flat was nice and new. Everything was nicer than I was used to from mine and Niall's flats, but God was it messy. Clothes were scattered everywhere. The apartment was small, but I was still impressed that he had his own place. It was everything I expected of Louis. It was perfectly imperfect. He stood next to me and I felt his hand on the small of his back.

  
“You're messy,” I commented.

  
“Shockingly, I really wasn't expecting company.”

  
“what would your mother say?” I teased.

  
“Probably nothing because this is exactly what her house looks like.”

  
I laughed, but there was still a discomfort in my stomach. I didn't know what I was doing anymore. I'd completely left my comfort zone. Louis moved to the couch and started to clear it off. He flung clothes to the floor and invited me to sit with him. I obliged and sat next to him. He stayed a safe distance from me and once again I couldn't understand if I was thankful or if I just wanted him to close the distance between us.

  
“Now what?” Louis said, looking over at me.

  
I didn't have a response. I didn't know where else to go. I didn't know what was next. I'd never been so open with someone.

  
“What I told you, about my boyfriend…” I didn't know where all these words were coming from, “it's the truth, but I don't think I'm ready to talk about it.”

  
He reached out and took a hold of my hand, “tell me something else then,”

  
I looked at him seriously, “I think I trust you.”

  
“I think that's the best compliment I've ever had.”

  
I smiled at him because he made everything seem good. My life was and always had been a mess, but for some reason I just felt normal around him. We were quiet for a long time before Louis finally broke the silence.

  
“Do you remember that conversation we had at the studio, when you asked me what I was looking for in someone, and I told you I wanted some to run with?”

  
I turned to him and met his eyes. It wasn't that his words weren't important, it was just that it was nearly impossible for me to focus against all the tension that lived between our bodies. Why weren't we touching? “Mmm,” was all I said.

  
Louis leaned forward and opened his MacBook. “When Liam came back the other day we started writing a song. It's kind of about that, kind of about you.”

  
Louis was taking a risk even after all the times I'd made him regret every single risk he'd taken.

  
“Can I play it for you?” He asked.

  
This was the moment. This was the moment when I would normally have bolted. Louis had feelings. Worse, they were feelings about me. But instead of being my normal, terrified self I just nodded. I couldn't stand another second of not touching him. I laid down on the couch, draping my feet over the arm rest and I placed my head on his lap. There was a comfort surrounding me that I wasn't used to. He smiled down at me and pressed play on his computer.

  
I heard Liam's voice and I was pretty impressed at the quality of the words.

  
_This time I'm ready to run_  
Escape from the city and follow the sun  
'Cause I wanna be yours, don't you wanna be mine?  
I don't wanna get lost in the dark of the night  
This time I'm ready to run  
Wherever you are is the place I belong  
'Cause I wanna be free, and I wanna be young  
I will never look back now I'm ready to run  
I'm ready to run

There was a voice I didn't recognize that sang only two lines in the song: _there will always be the kind that criticize, but I know yes I know we’ll be alright._

  
When the song ended, I felt something inside of my chest. There was a longing there. Something that made me ache for more.

  
“Was that you singing?” I mused, that longing still pulling at me.

  
Louis shrugged “yeah,”

  
I hadn't expected Louis’ voice. It caught me off guard. There was feeling inside of his voice, a gravel that I didn't expect. I knew Louis wrote music, but I hadn't expected for his voice to be so perfect. Sure, Liam’s voice led the song, but Louis added to it. He gave it depth and feeling. I wanted to hear more.

  
“I didn't expect that,” I said, staring up at him.

  
His hand found my hair and he started to stroke my head softly. Every gesture he made to me was restrained, and I was quite aware that he must be terrified that I'd bolt.

Louis hand softly played in my hair and everything in the room was silent except for our breathing. Most of the time, silence like this made me ill-at-ease, but in this case it felt.... Nice. Louis body next to mine made everything about the situation that I would normally have deemed as uncomfortable evaporate. I focused on nothing other than his slow strokes. I wanted more. I wanted everything, but fear held me back. There was no way I could give him everything so easily.

  
"Louis?" I asked after several moments of silence had elapsed.

  
"Yeah?"

  
"I like spending time with you. I'm sorry I tried to avoid this. You were probably right."

  
"I know," he said.

  
I closed my eyes and felt his fingers trail down my cheeks and through my hair.

  
"I liked the song," I remembered how his voice had sounded. "I like your voice,"

  
Louis laughed, "I never thought of myself as a singer, but thank you."

  
I found I was quite a fan of the silence. I closed my eyes and thought about nothing other than the heat from Louis' body. I thought about the goosebumps that appeared all along my neck every time his fingers met my skin. I didn't want to talk because I knew that when I started to speak, I would be the one who ruined this. I wanted my moment with him to remain perfect.

  
"Tell me about your family," I promoted him, looking for a way to memorize the way he spoke and felt at the same time. He launched into the tales of his formative years and I half-listened, half felt him. My eyes remained closed and I soon started to drift to sleep. It was dangerous to fall asleep, and even though I knew that, the heaviness of my eyelids won.

...

  
Just as I'd known would happen, once I was in my unconscious state, the first thing I saw was Ronnie. He was sitting on the couch in Louis' flat and I was sitting beside him. The room had an eerie silence about it. This time he appeared to me as not the teenager I remembered him as, but as an adult. He seemed like he'd aged, like I was seeing him for the person he might have been in a different reality. There was stubble on his cheeks and his shoulders were broader than I remembered. 

  
"Why did you lie to me?" His voice was altered. It was too deep, his accent lost somewhere in the recesses of my brain as I continued to forget more and more details of him. I knew I wasn't hearing the same person he had once been, but I couldn't force myself to remember him for accurately.

  
I opened my mouth, but just like the last dream, I wasn't able to speak.

  
"You told me you wouldn't forget, that we could always be like this," he took my hand. I saw pain in his cloudy eyes. I was sure his eyes had once been green, but they were a strange muddled colour now and I couldn't quite distinguish their shade.

  
"I was sad Harry. I was a sad kid. I wanted to be with you forever, but I couldn't do it. I had to go,"

  
I wanted so badly to reassure him, but my voice just wouldn't come out. I wanted to let him know that is never really forgotten. That despite how horrible my life had become, i had truly always kept my promise to him. I had loved him so much.

  
"All I feel is regret," tears fell from his eyes. "Tessa tells me I have to let you go, because you're different now, because you're an adult. You're ready to let me go, but Harry you're all I have. You're all I'll ever have and it isn't fair. I can't take it back, but I want to. I want to be alive with you,"

  
It was all so messed up. Nothing made sense. I felt all kinds of things for Ronnie, but they felt expired. Like I couldn't quite feel them the right way anymore. Everything in this reality was tainted. I was sitting alone with my dead boyfriend inside of Louis' house. It wasn't reality. It didn't make any sense.

  
There was a big part of me who planned to never really let him go because I didn't want to let his memory die. I felt like I owed it to his mother, to Tessa, to everyone who had seen us together. If I grew up and changed then I was a liar. If I stopped loving him i felt like it somehow changed how much I _had_ loved him. I couldn't love more than once. It wasn't how these things worked. I had promised him forever, and If I didn’t give that to him it made me a joke. It made everything I had felt for him irrelevant. I could either go on loving him forever, or realize that I never loved him at all.

  
Did you ever really love me, Harry?" His voice was desperate. Like he thought he had to convince me that I still loved him. Nothing made sense.

  
"You're so different now, Harry,"

  
I wanted to be able to speak to him but my voice just wouldn't work. I wasn't even sure how I would assure him. How would I explain me to him that I was different, but it didn't change who we were as kids? He had forced me to change. He'd made this path for me. He took away all of our plans without asking me. We were supposed to go to university together, to get married, to raise a family. He'd made me so many promises and then taken them all away from me without a single bit of explanation.

  
Was he really the one who deserved to be so upset?

  
I'd always miss him. He'd always matter, but he was gone. There was I way to reach him--even now--even in this dream world I couldn't speak to him. There was just nothingness. All I could do was listen to his desperate pleas. He didn't understand. He was the thing that had defined me. He had been my first crush, my first love, my first real anything and he'd turned it all from amazing to just fucking horrible. I had only changed and grown into the person I was now because he'd left me! He'd decided to leave me alone to cope. It was the only selfish thing he'd ever done, but it was all he needed to do. He'd changed my whole life with one callous decision. I'd never be the same kid that I was. I wanted to grow up _with_  him. I had wanted to changed _with_ him, but he hadn't given me a choice.

  
I thought I'd done well. Id kept him close, but I'd branched out. I had a job, a life, friends--things that I never thought could exist after him. Niall always told me how strong I was. He always told me I shouldn't be so hard on myself because i had achieved so much after so many bad things had happened.

  
Tessa hadn't been so lucky. Why didn't he talk to me about that? Why wasn't she with him?

  
"I don't want you to grow up anymore, Harry. Tessa says I'm selfish." He was crying then, "I want to take it back--I've missed so much. Your life is so wonderful and I can never be a part of that. I hate myself, Harry."  
  
Suddenly, I felt warm breath on my ear. Someone tucked my hair back and said my name. I knew the accent. 

  
"Harry,"

  
It was Louis. I looked at Ronnie one last time and op me my eyes. I was still surprised to find myself inside of Louis apartment. There was a blanket covering me and a pillow under my head.

  
"We've gotta go drop off Niall," his voice was soft and warm, and normally I didn't wake up well. Usually I woke up startled, especially when I was in a dream, but I felt comfortable.  
I opened my eyes and saw him standing by me. He wore a smile and I all i could think to myself was what a good feeling it was to wake up seeing his smile.

  
He dangled his car keys, "we should go before Niall has to take a cab."

  
I took stock of the things around me. I remembered what had happened to lead me to this place. I still felt fuzzy and focused on my conversation with Ronnie, but I thought I understood what had happened.

  
I'd had a break-through. I'd forced Liam to tell me Louis address so I could confess what a stupid moron i had been. By some stretch, he'd believed my words and let me into his house. We'd talked, well mostly he'd talked and if listened to every word. I'd drifted off on his couch, my head on his lap and I'd woke up tucked in with a pillow under my head. Louis had probably hardly even slept, and the clock above his stove said that it was 5:00. Even though he could have just let himself drift off, he'd taken the time to tuck me in and wake up early to bring Niall to the airport like he'd promised.

  
Louis was more than I was used to. He was thoughtful in a way that I thought only Niall could be. He wasn't thinking of himself. He was thinking just about me. About what I needed and about what I wanted. It was a strange thing to behold because most people I encountered would not give so much to me when I had done everything I could to give nothing back.

  
I had been so cold and so thoughtless to Louis, but all he was doink was thinking about me. About what I needed him to be. I wasn't sure I deserved any of it.

  
I felt out of place because I knew I didn't deserve to be there. I didn't know what to say to him. I stayed silent. I got up from the couch and pulled my hair back into a bun. I wordlessly followed behind Louis and got into his car.

  
Louis looked over to me from the drivers seat. “You okay?”

  
“I'm more than okay,”

  
He touched my cheek and I smiled at him. He was tentative, but I'd never felt so close to someone.

 

 

When we got to Niall's apartment, I went upstairs to meet him and Louis stayed in his car. I knocked on his bedroom door and cracked it open. He was still stuffing clothes into a suitcase and he looked up at me with confusion.

  
“What the hell happened to you?” He asked curiously. “I've been texting you,”

  
“My phone died,” I said.

  
“Where the hell did you go?” Niall was genuinely confused.

  
I had a stupid smile that I couldn't contain and as soon as Niall saw it he grinned back at me knowingly. “I got you a ride,”was all I said.

  
“And would that ride be with some blue eyed songwriter I might have heard a lot of horrible things about?"

  
“Shut up Niall,”

  
“Harry!” He all but shrieked.

  
I could feel my face burning from my blush. I couldn't pull the smile from my face and my cheeks were getting sore. “What?” I hissed.

  
Niall laughed in a joyful way, “you caved,”

  
I shook my head, “I'm testing the waters,” I was a damn liar, and Niall knew it.

  
“What made you change your mind?”

  
“I haven't changed my mind about anything,”

  
“Christ Harry, you're difficult.” He chuckled, zipping up his suitcase. “Im just mad I'm not going to be here to see all of this go down. You really picked a bad time to become a decent human being.”

  
I pretended to laugh and then looked at him seriously. “I'm going to fuck up, Niall.” I felt like my voice held a desperation to it. “Ronnie is mad,”

  
“That's not possible Harry, they're just dreams.”

  
I wasn't sure if I'd ever believed they were only dreams.

  
“You're leaving and I'm going to be alone with Louis and him.” I was really scared, “I'm going to fuck it up before you even get back.”

  
Niall slung an arm around my shoulder, “you can't fuck it up, Harry.”

  
“Clearly you've never met me. I'm scared and I'm certifiably crazy. I talk to my dead boyfriend. Louis hasn't got a clue what I'm really like. I dreamed about Ronnie and I being in louis’ apartment last night. Niall I've lost my fucking mind.”

  
“Alright, I'll give you one piece of advice only--don't leadwith that fact about yourself,” he smiled at me, and despite the horror in the pit of my stomach I laughed back.

  
“You're an ass,”

  
“But really, Harry, you're not crazy. You're going to figure it out.”

 


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry sex, because who doesn't love Larry sex?
> 
> Well, Louis sure does.

Louis

I stayed behind the wheel and looked out the window as Harry said goodbye to Niall. He clung tightly to his best friend and I could easily see that he was upset that he was leaving, even though it was only a week. It wasn't hard for me to see that there was something special between Harry and Niall. Harry cared about him in a very deep way. I saw as Harry whispered to him. Most of me just wanted to understand what was going on. I had fought so hard to get Harry into my car that first time, then we'd kissed and he'd bolted. Then again, I fought, hand in hand with Niall, to get him that job at the studio. Then I'd fought to get time alone with him and again, he'd bolted. Then, nearly two weeks later,when it was finally on his terms, he'd shown up at my front door. Sure, it was everything I wanted, but I was scared. I was scared that once again, I'd push and find that thing that made him run. This time it would be different. It _had to_  be different. This time he'd told me he trusted me, if I ruined that I'd probably never have the chance to recover from that again.

  
In the beginning, it had been so easy to be around him. He'd made me feel like myself, but for some reason I had new levels of terror inside of me. I wanted to talk to him, I wanted to ask him for an itemized list of every boundary he had so I wouldn't cross a single line. I wanted safety measures. I needed security because I knew it would be like breathing to get used to him. I would be so easily addicted—hell, I already was. But if we went deeper? I'd never be able to recover if I fucked up again. Harry wasn't fit to lead this situation, but there was no other way.

  
Finally, after a long debate and a lot of whispers in Niall's ear, he turned back toward the car as Niall walked away. He opened the door and got in the car. I could feel his mood. He was down. He was worried about Niall.

  
“You okay?” I asked him, touching his cheek. He nodded and smiled, but the smile didn't do anything to the sadness in his eyes.

  
“You're going to miss Niall a lot, aren't you?”

I didn't know how to speak to Harry. I didn't know how to press for the answers to every question I wanted out of him. I didn't just want to know about Niall. I wanted to know what songs he sang in the shower. What colour he'd painted his room as a kid. His mothers maiden name. What kind of shampoo he preferred and what his favourite movie was. I wanted to know everything all at once, but I settled for the one opportunity I saw.

  
“I always do,” he said. His gaze was downcast. He wasn't okay, but I didn't know how to make him admit it or how to fix it.

  
“Are you sure you're okay?”

  
He shook his head, “I'm terrified I'm going to say the wrong thing. I don't know how to talk to you and not send you running.”

  
I laughed at bit at his statement, “you didn't scare me away when you were trying. I seriously doubt you'd be successful now,”

  
He had a small smile now, as he turned to face me. This time his eyes sparkled as he processed my words.

  
“You're hard to shake,” he muttered.

  
“I'm going to take that as a compliment,”

  
He looked serious again, out of nowhere. Part of me expected he was ready to bolt and I hated myself for thinking the worst of him. “Thank you,” he said.

  
“For what exactly?”

  
“For being here. For last night. For driving Niall at an ungodly hour. For making me laugh.”

  
I shrugged, “I don't mind any of it, but you're welcome.”

  
“Spend the day with me?”

  
My heart stopped. Harry was reaching out. He was asking for more time with me. He was stepping directly out of the comfort zone he had fought to stay in from the moment I met him. I put the car in reverse and drove from the airport. I got on the first highway I could and drove. Harry was silent next to me and played with the radio.

  
“Where are we going?” He said finally, staring as street signs zoomed passed us.

  
I shrugged, “I haven't got a clue.”

  
“So your plan is to kidnap me and drive as far as you can before I notice that's what you're doing?"

  
I sighed happily. The awkwardness was evaporating and our banter had returned. Harry was comfortable again. I could tell because he'd reclined his seat and placed his feet on my dashboard.

  
“Have you ever heard of Stockholm syndrome?” I joked, “you're so far out of my league, it's really the only hope I have.”

  
Harry laughed, “you have no idea what you're talking about.”

  
I didn't know what he meant, but I felt like he was getting down on himself. I sensed that Harry saw the world in a very different way than the people who were lucky enough to be around him.

  
“Why are you still single anyway?” He asked me, staring out the window.

  
“I just met you, Harry.” I said, slyly.

  
“That's not an answer,”

  
I took my eyes on the road for a split second to steal a glance at him. I grinned like an idiot, “sure it is.”

  
He laughed like he had both the times I had first been around him. It was carefree and easy. He flipped his hair out of his face and returned my grin.

  
“Smooth _and_ subtle,”

  
“I do what I can,” I felt Harry's relaxation. He was comfortable here in the car with me. I probably could have driven with him for hours without so much as a peep. I let him lead me, though, even though he really didn't have a clue.

  
“I didn't want to like you, you know.” He said once his maximum quiet time had expired.

  
“I'm sorry I disappointed,”

  
His warm hand found my thigh and he rubbed it gently. “I didn't say it was a bad thing, I just didn't want it.”

  
“I gathered that much, but I wouldn't have given up, so I'm pretty happy you gave in.”

  
He was quiet again, but the contented feeling had left him. “I think I might be bad at this.”

  
I shook my head, “you're perfect,” I said, because he was clearly deluded. He didn't have a clue what he was talking about. There wasn't a single place on earth I would have rather been.

  
“Where would you go if you had to leave tomorrow?” I asked him to steer the conversation back into light. Things turned dark with Harry pretty easily.

  
“I want to go somewhere hot,”

  
“That's a lot of places,” I noted, “London was always the place I wanted to run away to when I was a kid, now sometimes I think it wouldn't be so bad to be home.”

  
“I don't understand that,” he said slowly. “I have been trying to avoid going back to my hometown since I was 18.”

  
“Home isn't always a place though,” I argued philosophically. “Sometimes it's a state of mind. It's fluid. Home has changed a lot for me over the years. I used to call London home, but now I think I'm looking for something else again.”

 

I didn't know how long we'd been driving, but the city started to fade. The buildings got smaller and smaller and they slowly spread apart. Harry was quiet and thoughtful. There was something going on inside of his head, but he was withholding it from me. He was still relaxed. Eventually he drifted to sleep. As I looked over at his peaceful face I was reminded of just how little I had slept the night before. I yawned and pulled onto the first road I saw leading off the highway. The car was silent. I kept driving down the mystery road, taking a few turns as I saw fit. Eventually we were on a dirt road somewhere in the country side. I didn't even have the slightest clue where I'd taken us. It was kind of thrilling as I looked over at Harry's sleeping body. I pulled to the side of the road.

  
Harry's eyes opened as soon as the vehicle slowed, “where are we?” He mumbled.

  
I shrugged, “I haven't got a clue.”

  
I stared out the window for a moment, and then looked back at me, a sleepy haze still in his eyes. “You really did kidnap me,”

  
I was about to say something, but I was quickly and efficiently distracted when he reached across to me. He sat up and leaned across the arm rest and his eyes were less than an inch from mine. I cupped his face with my hand. He hovered a millimetre from my mouth of a moment and a smile fell across his face. I couldn't take a second more. I pulled his lips to mine and every bit of awkwardness we'd lived in since the moment he'd come to my door evaporated. He opened his mouth against mine and wound his fingers through my hair. There wasn't enough. There could never be enough of him. His mouth was soft and warm and he kissed me deeply, for the first time, without any thought. I could _feel_ him relenting and finally feeling me. He was letting go of the control that he was so fond of. He was letting me in. Letting me under his skin. Maybe I didn't have any real clue what that meant for him, but god, I was thankful. All I'd wanted was this moment. Being alone with him, having his attention no where but me. Without distractions. To just selfishly enjoy the way he laughed, the slow and calculated way he spoke. The whimiscal way he looked at the world like it was all just a dream.

He was a dream.

  
I heard him sigh into my mouth and my body was in a frenzie. I dove close to him, rising from my seat and climbing the impossible distance between us, which when we hadn't been touching, seemed like such a close proximity, but now it felt like I would never be satisfied. There was just no way Harry could be close enough.

  
This time was different. There was no threat that he might flee. There was no fear in the pit of my stomach, just raw passion and need to be closer. I climbed over the gear shift and found myself straddling Harry's body. His kisses were no longer calculated. He licked my lips and kissed me with all the sloppy desire that I felt. There was only heat, only magic burning between our bodies. The fact that I had known him for this long and never _felt_ him was criminal. But, I didn't just want to feel him, I wanted to become a part of him. I wanted him to be a part of me.

  
Finally, after an immeasurable amount of time trying to fit inside that passenger side of my car, Harry's hand left my back, where he'd been carving what I was certain would be the most beautiful picture, with his nails. He found the lever and the seat reclined suddenly and we dropped back, my heart jumping into my chest. His lips laughed against mine. I felt like I was in a daze. Everything was so good all at once that there was no way I could really be real.

  
“Louis,” he said and his voice swirled in my ears in the most sultry possible way. I'd never been quite so fond of my own name as I was when I dripped from his lips. Finally, I knew what my name tasted like and there was no way I'd ever get enough.

  
“Mmm,” was all I managed to respond before my lips found his neck. I ran my tongue along his jawline and tasted the salt of his sweat. His skin was sweet and soft and more than I as a mere mortal was truly able to handle.

  
“Where the fuck are we?” He voice was light and care-free.

  
He had a cheeky grin and the only way I could respond was by laughing. He laughed into our kiss, but he never really broke away. His lips were lush and soft and I felt them scraping against my stubble. His hands were everywhere. His nails ran down my back and his palms slid torturously across my stomach. I didn't know what he was doing, where he was steering this kiss. It was way more than a kiss. I felt like I couldn't remember kissing anyone else before him. Nothing else mattered because the fever I felt was only matched by the flame I saw burning in his green eyes, my body resting on top of his.

  
I felt my hardness pressing against his. It was more than I could really handle. I had no thoughts, just feelings. I felt the cool air tickle the back of my neck in all the places Harry's hands had lit fires. My whole body was ablaze and I swear to god, I had never been more turned on in my entire existence. It was torture, sweet, fulfilling and addictive torture.

  
His lips found my ear, “Do you want me?”

  
Every. Single. Word. Sent shockwaves down my spine. His breath ignited more eclectic fires as his words settled into my skin. Did I want him? He he even understand what he was doing to me?

  
“Harry I didn't even know what 'want' was until you walked into my life,”

  
If this were a week ago, the whole thing would have crashed down. The ceiling of our fling would have collapsed in on me and he would have run for his life from my words. My words that meant so much and were so honest. My words that, though I was trying, did not possess the ability to sum up what I felt. I didn't have a clue. I'd never had a clue, but Harry had shown me. Now I understood what desire meant. What craving another human being in the most primal way felt like. I wanted to bathe in his sweaty skin. To sleep next to the heat of his body. To forget what my name sounded like from anyone else's mouth.  
There was nothing else. Only we existed. The world could have burned and I wouldn't have been able to bat an eye at it.

  
I don't know how long it went on like that; how long I managed to survive without tearing his clothes from his body and memorizing the way his skin felt against mine, but the sun had started to set. My lips were sore, Harry's eyes were cloudy and I wondered how much longer we'd survive this fever pitch before my car gave up and burst into flames.

  
He turned his face away from me, “we should back to your place,” he whispered as my kisses found his collar bones.

  
“You're insane,” I told him. My voice was so annoying and so out of place in the car with the heat of our bodies.

  
“I want you,” he said tugging my hair and forcing my face closer to his.

  
“I'm not going to wait and drive all the way back. I'll literally perish.”

  
He laughed against my lips, “touché,”

 

After some immeasurable amount of time and discomfort I forced myself back in the driver’s seat and tried to ignore the discomfort my body was in. My skin ached. I was miles from him even though he was in the passengers seat. An elderly lady led us up a staircase and handed me a key to a bedroom. We were in the first place we'd seen. It was a bed and breakfast a few hours outside of London. We played along and followed all of the niceties as she showed us around. Then she walked away and I practically slammed the door shut.

Harry's body crashed into mine and I pressed him against the door. He said things, but I couldn't remember them. All I could remember was how they felt as they induced goosebumps along my neck. I was usually so in control. I was usually so forceful and so self-aware, but with Harry my thought process was completely gone. His teeth nibbled along my neck and I was sure the whole room was spinning. I felt drunk, despite the fact that it had been days since I'd touched any alcohol. I said the word ‘fuck’ about 6 million times before I felt Harry's hands moving to my jeans. So sudden I caugh me off guard, he opened the and took me in his hand. I gasped against his lips and he chuckled back.

  
His hands on me were enough. I was through. Reality hit me and my hazy dream floated away. I pressed him harder against the wall as his hand started to massage me at an agonizingly slow place.

  
Harry's lips found my ear, “I want you to fuck me,”

  
The words were so simple, so direct, I had no choice but to oblige. My body had never wanted something so bad in my entire life.

  
I heard myself growl something unit eligible. I was akin to some kind of wild animal with the prospect of Harry dangled in front of me.

  
I quickly opened his pants and dropped to my knees. He was in front of me, all of his glory for me to see. There was attraction and then there was this, whatever this was. I'd fucked plenty of other people but nothing was like this. I ran my palm across his perfect, soft stomach, feeling his abs and focusing on nothing but the way our bodies call for each other.  
Slowly at first, and then all at once, I took him in my mouth. The walls melted. Harry gasped quickly and wound a hand through my already messy hair. He followed the gasp up with a moan that nearly made me finish without ever getting to really feel him. Everything he did was perfection. Every sound he made. The way he writhed against the wall and my mouth. The sounds coming from him were enough to break me. To shatter my resolve completely and pledge myself to nothing but him.

  
Everything was in hyper-drive. Time had passed in the strangest manner. I felt like I'd never known anything before him, but I was desperate for more and more time because I was aware that there would never be satisfactory amount.

  
He finished quickly, but again I didn't trust my perception of time. I rose to meet his lips again and he kissed me deeply. All I could taste was him on my tongue and I never wanted to taste anything else ever again.

  
Within seconds, Harry's flawless body was leaning over the bed. I held him from behind, hold his Hips firmly in my hands. I pressed into him slowly. Again he made some sort of sound that was enough to drive sanest man to the edge. The deeper I got inside of him the more I realized that I had never been this close to another human being. It wasn't the fact that I was inside him, it was the fact that I was no longer peering through the cracks inside of Harry's armour. He had removed the armour.I was seeing his soul. I was feeling the real parts of him that he'd tried for so long to keep secret. I was seeing the submission. The way he craved to be taken, despite all the effort he put in to make people believe otherwise. I was aware that this was rare. He didn't do this. I didn't have to be a psychologist to see that he was giving me something special. I had ever felt so humbled in all my life than I did with the knowledge that Harry Styles had finally opened up a piece of his soul to me.

  
I vowed to myself, then and there, while rocking inside of him that I'd take care of him. Of all the pieces he's shown me. Maybe he wasn't really sure what to do with the pieces, but I was good at puzzles. I would help to piece him back together. It was the least I could do, given the gifts he'd already given me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my best friend in the whole wide world is also a writer, and she is working on a new story that is super well written, and far beyond my skillset, so everyone should check her out!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/7211672


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Required listening for this chapter: One by Ed Sheeran

Harry

I was sitting inside of one of the largest bath tubs I'd ever encountered. It was in the corner of our hotel room and jets blasted, massaging my aching skin. The intensity of my day with Louis left me reeling. My mind was empty and contented. My body was exhausted and my limbs like jello. Louis was having some phone call with the people he worked with.

  
This was the sort of thing I'd spent my entire adult life avoiding. I'd not only had sex with Louis, I'd let him in. I'd told him things. I'd let him hold me, kiss me. Everything I'd ever known was now in question. I had no idea what I was doing anymore, and the old parts of me wanted badly to find a small flaw, something that I could take and run with, because this was dangerous. I could get used to him and he could leave. Sure, everything was great now, I'd be a fool to deny it, but darkness lived inside of me. I'd either fuck it up, or show him too much and send him running. Louis seemed brave, but I doubted very seriously that there was any level of bravery qualified to deal with me.

  
I leaned back in the jacuzzi and listened to the distant sound of Louis' words, I couldn’t make out much of his conversation, but that wasn't my goal. My goal was to comfort myself with the sound of his voice. I closed my eyes for a moment. Soon, his voiced quieted. Still I kept my eyes closed, I was in a trance of calm that I was completely not used to. I felt something cold touch my hand and my eyes flashed open. Louis was standing beside the jacuzzi and holding a beer in each hand, he smiled down at me and I stared into his perfect, blue eyes, taking the beer from him.

  
“Mind if I join?” He asked me, and all I could do was nod.

  
Since the day I'd met Louis, I'd tried to convince myself that I was everything but attracted to him, but I was a horrible liar. Louis’ body was flawless and fit perfectly with my own. I talked a lot of shit, but Louis was very easily the most perfectly imperfect human being I'd ever met. He never took things seriously. My stomach ached after every conversation I had with him because he always made me laugh too hard. He was abrasive and said everything he thought. He was forward and had not a single clue about boundaries. He drank a lot and always had to be the centre of attention in social situations. His flat was messy and he'd willingly admitted to me that he didn't know how to cook. He was afraid of vegetables and didn't have a clue how to make a smoothie or do anything other than order takeaway pizza.

  
But he was also the sweetest person I'd ever met. He had a quiet devotion about him. He didn't have to say anything to me, but I knew he was there. It felt like he was there because he genuinely cared about me in all the ways I'd thought I never wanted. I never had to question any of it because he was wide open. I knew everything he was thinking. He told me what he felt, a skill I'd never really learned. Louis had a way with words and when I tried to match it, all I gave him was awkwardly stitched sentences from the most fearful man in the world.

  
But he didn't care—he just wanted more.

  
“Harry?” He said, as his naked body settled into the water with me.

  
I fit myself into his arms and he held me against him. “Yeah?”

  
“You're perfect,”

  
I laughed once and spoke against his collarbone, “and you're clearly deluded.”

I knew that maybe Louis didn't like it when I was honest about myself, because he always shot me a disapproving look, but I couldn't help it. He was ignoring evidence and I didn't think it fair to just let him go on believing I was perfect. Better yet, since I was selfish and self-serving, I had to continually remind myself that as good as these moments were, they couldn't last. I had to continuously remind myself that eventually it would all end and I would be left with the same thing I always was: a clear, definitive picture of myself.

  
Sure, I might have been a horrible disappointment in a lot of ways, maybe I was selfish and distant, but dammit, I was all if ever had. I had to take care of me first because it wasn't a job anyone else had ever been qualified for. Not even my mother, whom I loved dearly, had been able to protect me from the horrors of reality or the horrors of my unconscious state. Niall, even after all he'd done for me had come into it late. He'd missed the years id spend in therapy and the ever-changing medication regime I'd been victim of. He'd missed the night terrors (though he had now been there through the re-runs) and he'd missed the sadness I'd once had inside of me.

  
No one but me had seen me through my broken years. I learned early on in life that the person who would protect me best would always be myself.

  
But still, I couldn't help but fall victim to Louis. There was something addictive and incredible that lived between us. Between our minds and our bodies. I didn't know how to say it, how to feel it in the right way--but it lived there and I had come to crave it, even though I'd only just tasted it.

  
I couldn't help but feel safe wrapped up in his arms in that giant bathtub. As long as I was here with him and nothing from my past came crashing in, I probably could have felt like that forever.

  
But, as if said--nothing lasted forever with me. Of course my past would come to crush me. Even though I had fallen asleep in the best way, my body completely exhausted from the way Louis and I had fucked, and wrapped up in his arms in the most comfortable bed in a beautiful bed and breakfast. I had had a great night, followed by a perfect day with nothing but Louis and an even more important and pivotal night--but nothing lasted. Not for me.

My dream was beautiful, cheesy and romantic and everything I always thought I hated. I found that, while in this perfect dream world, I didn't hate it even a little bit. Louis and I were standing inside of the bedroom of that b&b. The radio was playing and when Louis heard the word " _tell me that you turned down the man who asked for your hand 'cause you were waiting for me,"_ he grabbed my hand and pulled me to him, a sexy grin set on his face.  
Louis placed his right hand on my lower back and then took my hand with his left. It was funny, because of our height difference it would almost have been awkward for Louis to lead me, but in this case it wasn't like that. Louis personality made up for his stature. His personality was huge and tall and the only sensible thing was for him to lead. I placed my free arm around his neck. He guided my body softly, but boldly.

  
_All my senses come to light, while I'm stumbling home as drunk as I have been_  I listened to the words happily as Louis lead me across the floor. He shocked me with his leadership skills and bent me backwards, dipping me toward the floor as Ed Sheeran's voice sang _you are the only one._

  
I laughed in spite of myself. I felt my face flushing because i had tried to convince myself so hard that Louis was not suave or romantic, but I had been wrong. I felt special. He made me feel like I was the sun. Like the whole world existed just to orbit around me. I wasn't used to the feeling because I'd only ever felt like a pathetic burden. Even with Niall, I was so much. I required so much babying, but Louis made it all not matter. He made me feel special. Wanted.

  
_Take my hand and my heart and soul and I will only have these eyes for you,_ he spun us quickly and then released his hold on my back. He lifted our joined hands into the air. He twirled my body and pulled me to his chest. I leaned against him and his lips hovered just above me, and he smiled down at me in the most tortuous way. His mouth moved to my ear and he sang _we could stay within these walls and bleed or just say with me._

  
Again, he turned my body in a flawless circle. He placed his hand back on my lower back and pressed our bodies against each other. He rested his head on my shoulder, leaning perfectly into my body.

  
Louis was everything. He was bold, daring and charming. He led me and pushed me out of my comfort zone. He was romantic and brave. He wasn't afraid to show me how he felt, not in all the ways everyone else was. Everyone aside from him that I'd ever met played games, pretending not to be interested. Louis didn't pretend to be anything he wasn't. He let me see it all. He was a leader, but he gave me his softer side without fear. Louis wasn't like anyone else. He didn't give me anything but honesty.

  
We swayed slowly through the bridge, _stumbling off drunk, getting myself lost, I am so gone_. Louis let go of my hand and placed both of his arms around my neck. I wrapped my arms around his lower back, keeping him close to me. He stood on his tip toes and leaned his forehead against mine. All I could think about was kissing him, but we continued to sway to the music.

  
_I listen to sad songs, singing about love and where it goes wrong,_  and Ed held the note and Louis and I continued to dance until he stopped suddenly. His eyes were wide and panicked. He began to gasp for breath and the note still held in the air. The colour started to change in Louis cheeks, first from his pale skin to pink and then he began to take on a blue hue. The note still swirled in the air but the pitch began to drop and the voice turned into something from a nightmare and the music turned to dark scratching sounds like nails on a chalk board. I panicked. Louis' face was completely blue and he started to grab wildly at his neck like something was wrapped around it. He couldn't breathe. A bruise began to appear on his neck and I knew what was happening. I grabbed him and desperately searched for the rope, but there was nothing. He started to choke and cough silently and breathlessly.

  
"Louis!" I just kept saying over and over, and I searched for the reason he was choking but I couldn't find anything.

  
His face was blue and the room was getting darker and darker. He couldn't breathe. Somehow, there was a rope tied around his neck but I couldn't get it off of him. He was dying. He was suffocating and I couldn't figure out how to save him. Tears poured from my eyes as I uselessly stroked his hair and pleaded over and over for him to be okay. There was nothing I could do because there was nothing actually happening to him.

  
"Louis please,"

  
"You're projecting your fears on him," a voice was behind me. Again it was that voice of Ronnie's that I could t quite remember. It was all wrong. I held Louis in my arms and shook him, pleading desperately for him to breathe.

  
Ronnie stood next to me, and I saw a rope in his hands.

  
"Make it stop!" I cried desperately.

  
The bruises around Louis neck darkened as I watched in horror, his tiny hands still clawing desperately at his throat.

  
Ronnie nudge me and tried to hand me the rope. I refused to let Louis go. I wasn't going to let it end like this.

  
Not again.

  
Again, Ronnie nudged me, trying to hand me the rope. “Finish the job Harry.” His voice was strange and low. He sounded more like a horror movie villain than the man I had once loved.

“You did it to me,”

  
Tears burst from my eyes because I was losing time. Louis was giving up, his gasps were slowing. “Louis please,” I choked on the words, my spit think and stringy as I cried harder than I could ever remember crying. Louis’ body gave out and we both fell to the floor. The bruises on his neck were dark and as we hit the ground I heard his neck snap. Again I cried his name and tears fell over his body, but it was completely lifeless.

  
Ronnie dropped the rope on top of Louis’ body. I looked up at him standing over me. I was lost in my grief; grief that had once been reserved for only him.

  
“this is what you do Harry,” he pointed to his own neck, blackened by bruises from him own rope.

  
“I didn't do anything,” I held Louis’ body tightly against me, kissing his head even though most of me knew he wasn't there.

  
“What made you think it would be different this time?” Why was Ronnie making so much sense? “It ended the same for me, for Tessa. You break people, Harry. You lie and you break them.”

  
I couldn't speak. Sobs escaped my chest at a desperate pace. I felt my whole body shaking. Ronnie crunched down in front of me and stared me in the eyes.

  
“If you were enough, Harry, I wouldn't have left.”

  
That was it. Those were the only words I needed to hear. I felt my chest fracture. I heaved deeply as the need to vomit swirled inside of my stomach. I suppose it had always been there, but I'd never heard him say it. It was my fault. My fault Ronnie was gone. My world started to break down around me. The walls closed in and I desperately clung to Louis, the third person I hadn't saved.

  
“Harry, you'll never be enough for someone. You're selfish and aloof. How long do you honestly think you have before Louis wants to die too?”

  
I wanted badly to scream. To yell at Ronnie and tell him to leave. Why was he trying to destroy everything?

  
“You hurt me,” was all I managed to say.

  
“And you LIED,” he hissed the word and again I smelled the smell of decay. I looked up at Ronnie and he was dead again, just a rotting corpse standing next to me. “You told me you'd never stop loving me.” I held Louis body tightly. “Now you don't even remember me. You're a liar and Louis is going to see it and he's going to leave you just like I did, and then you're going to have nothing, just like you deserve.”

  
Tears poured senselessly from my eyes as I processed the accuracy of what Ronnie was saying to me. Of course he was right. If I had been enough, Ronnie would still be alive. Tessa would still be alive. I'd be able to walk down the streets of holmes chapel without feeling like a hated villian. I would be a whole person.

  
"You're a fucking liar and a joke, Harry." Ronnie said, his rotten mouth pressed against my ear. "Do you honesty think that someone like Louis wants to be with someone like you?"

  
Of course I didn't think that. Of course I'd spent every moment with Louis wondering what the fuck he was doing. I broke things. I pushed people to extremes. I would break Louis. It was one of the only things in the world I was really certain of. The only fair thing I could do was push him away to spare him his feelings—his life.

  
But.

  
But I was selfish. I wanted him. I wanted to be right for him. I wanted him to want me. To think that I was enough, even though I knew it was all impossible. I would ruin it all and it was just a matter of time.

  
I didn't know what I was doing—I'd never known what I was doing.

  
"Do you ever just think about how pathetic it is that you made me a promise after I died and you couldn't even manage to keep it? I mean, I wasn't even here! I couldn't have been the one who fucked it up, that's all on you." All I could smell was the rancid stench of the air that flew from his mouth. "You fail at everything, Harry. How do you think I felt watching you fuck other people all these years? I could only stand it because I knew it was necessity—but this is different. You didn't fuck Louis because you needed it." His hands wrapped around my throat, "You wanted it. You wanted him more than you ever wanted me. Pathetic." He spat.

  
My hands flew to his and I gagged as I felt his rotten flesh in my hands. I pulled at his hands until he relaxed his grip and let my neck go.

  
"I'm trapped here, Harry," He said, his words still seething. "I'm trapped inside of your fucked up head and all I do all day long is wait for you." This time he sounded like he was crying. "Before?" I heard his voice crack in sadness. "Before, I didn't mind. I looked forward to it, because when you fell asleep we finally got to be together." I Could feel his pain inside of every word. I felt an enormous weight of guilt. "Before, I'd just lay with you when you slept, imagined I was there. I miss you so much, you know?"

  
The smell of him was overwhelming my senses, but I still felt focused on the sadness I heard behind his words.

  
"Now I just sit inside of your head and listen to you think about Louis. You don't give a shit about me anymore. I can't lay beside you now because you don't fucking want me anymore!"

  
His anger reverberated through the room we were in and the guilt crushed my chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. I buried my face in Louis' hair, trying to remember the perfect way he smelled. Trying to block out the horror show that stood next to me. I wanted to be someone else. Somewhere else. I wanted Ronnie to leave me for the first time ever. I was scared. He was angry and I'd never seen this side of him before.

  
"I hope he fucking kills himself to escape you—just like I did."

  
The room went black and Ronnie disappeared. I clung to Louis' body until it, too was erased. I was alone in a black room. The smell of Ronnie was gone, but the room smelled like mildew. I couldn't see anything all I felt was a ball of fear in the pit of my stomach.

  
I said Louis' name over and over as a deep, slow panic emerged in my gut. My limbs shook, my heart racing in my chest. Cold sweat dripped down my neck and goosebumps emerged across my whole body. I kept calling to Louis, but he was gone. Everything was gone. I was alone in a stagnant room of darkness. I felt my breathing become faster and faster.

  
Louis name slipped from my tongue only a few times before I started to scream for Ronnie. I screamed apologies, cried out my fears. I needed him back. I needed him to fix this. He'd trapped me inside of this panic. He'd done this. He'd created darkness and left me to suffer alone...

  
Just like I had done to him.

  
I screamed and my body shook. I wrapped my arms around my legs, trying to still my trembling body. I couldn't think straight. I was panic breathing. I felt like my lungs weren't working. No matter how much I desperately gasped for breath, none of the air actually made it to my lungs. I must have been suffocating.

  
I begged to Ronnie to come back. How could I have tried to blame him? All he was guilty of was bringing me back to reality. None of the things he'd said were lies. He was just reminding me of the person I really was.

  
I was going to ruin Louis. It was what I did. I was distant and detached. I protected myself at all costs. I had driven Ronnie to insanity somehow. I'd broken him and I'd ruined him to the point of no return. Wasn't it really just a matter of time before I ruined Louis just as much? And wasn't it worse now, now that I was older and Louis was an adult with his life together? He had everything perfectly laid out in his life, and now he'd let me in and I would tear it all down. Its what I did. I'd broken Ronnie. I'd broken Tessa. I'd abandoned my family, their family to try and walk away from the terror I'd caused.

  
I was a liar and joke. I had promised Ronnie that day when I'd stood in front of his coffin that I would never forget him. I'd told him I'd never let him go. That I'd love him forever and I'd never choose someone else. I was a fucking liar. From the moment I'd muttered the words and laid those fucking peonies into his coffin I'd been a liar. I'd always chosen someone over him.

  
I had chosen myself.

  
I'd stuck my tail between my legs and ran for my fucking life. How could I possibly be trust to keep someone's memory alive when I'd done everything to escape our life together? Ronnie had every right to be mad. He had every right to be angry because he was right. I was a phony. A liar.

  
I closed my eyes against my tears, getting to my feet. My breathing was still laboured. I felt the room light up and peeled open my eyes. I was standing outside. It was the funeral. The day that was burned into the front of all of my memories.

  
I was standing in front of Ronnie's coffin, a fist full of peonies in my hand. I looked down at him, his hair too flat against his head. His skin too pale. The makeup not quite covering the bruising from the ropes. His lips were too dark, his pose too stiff. Nothing about it was right. I remembered this day and my distress at how wrong they had gotten everything. No one here knew Ronnie, not like Tessa and I did, but no one asked us. They just let the day unfold like we didn't matter. Like he barely even mattered.

  
I leaned over the coffin, muscle memory kicking in. I was acting out the day like it was the first time. I'd dreamed about this day more times than I could ever attempt to remember. I laid the bundle of flowers on his left side. My mouth opened to make all those promises, my eyes closing against the flood of tears that threatened to fall.

  
Suddenly I felt a finger press to my lips. My eyes shot open and I saw Ronnie's body return to my cruel mind's new favourite state. Again he was a seven-year-dead corpse. He grabbed my shoulders.

  
"Don't you fucking dare make me a promise,"

  
My heart hammered against my ribcage as he held on to me from inside of his coffin. He sat up and stared me with his empty eye sockets. I was paralyzed. I'd lived this day on repeat so many times I couldn't even count, but this was a first. This was the first time he'd been angry. The first time I'd been afraid of what he might do.

  
"Do you ever just think maybe you're the one who should have died, Harry?"

  
He released my shoulders and fell back, limp inside of his coffin. I closed my eyes, wanting to be anywhere but there. Tears poured down my face. I was too terrified to scream. Too terrified to run. Every muscle in my body was frozen.

  
"You're a liar,"

  
It wasn't Ronnie's voice. My eyes flew open and I looked down at Louis inside of the coffin. His accent hung in the air and his eyes shut. The coffin door slammed. I heard Louis fighting inside of the box, kicking, clawing trying to open it again. My body was pulled backwards by some sort of gravitational pull. I screamed out, but the coffin dropped into the dirt, Louis still screaming inside of it.

  
"No!" I heard myself yelling, "He's not dead," my voice broke as I screamed out the words, desperately trying to somehow get louis out of that hole.

  
I felt arms around me, I fought against them, screaming Louis' name. Tears poured down my cheeks. Panic made my chest hurt. I could feel my heart beat in my ears, and all I could do was pant for breath, because once again my lungs were not working.

  
I looked around me and saw a wallpapered room. Across from me was an enormous bathtub. The room smelled like everyone's grandmother's house. There was still a set of arms around me and I began to realize that maybe my nightmare was over. Niall must have been there. I tried desperately to catch my breath and stop my screams.

  
I tried to ground myself. To try and identify my surroundings and figure out if I was awake or dreaming. I couldn't smell the rot anymore. I wasn't in the dank mildew smelling room anymore. I wasn't sure where I was. It wasn't a familiar place. I had to still be dreaming. I wanted Niall so badly, but there was no way that I was in his room this time.

  
I heard a voice say my name, but I didn't recognize it. I saw a shadow move in the corner of the room and nearly jumped out of my skin. Ronnie's corpse stood silently in the corner of the room. Where the hell was I?

  
I looked at the sign over the door that said no smoking and I was confused. I wasn't in someone's house. This wasn't my room. This wasn't my mother's house, and it definitely wasn't Niall's. I was in a bed with a god-awful floral comforter, but what the hell was Ronnie doing in the corner. Why was he being so quiet?

  
Suddenly, as I heard my name again, I became aware that there was still a set of arms around me. Panic flooded me. This wasn't a safe place. I wasn't safe here. I clawed at the arms, forcing them to release me. I kicked and I screamed, punching everywhere around me, wildly. I elbowed whoever it was that was holding me down directly in the stomach, finally forcing them to release me.

  
"Ronnie," I said, looking across the room at him. He shook his head left to right a few times, still not speaking.

  
Was I even awake? Why was he here?

  
I sat upright in the bed and rocked slowly back and forth, trying to find something to grasp on to that would tell me if I was asleep or awake, but all I could think about was the panic that was consuming me. My chest was heavy. It was aching, my heart ready to give out. My breathing didn't make sense. How could I be breathing so hard yet not catching my breath at all?

  
I looked behind me then and I saw who had been holding me. Louis' blue eyes looked horrified, like I was some kind of monster. I had never felt such a depth of shame in my entire life.

  
I wasn't dreaming.

  
I'd woken up in the bed and breakfast Louis had taken me to and I'd ruined it. The whole room felt dirty and tainted because I could tell by the horrified expression on his face that Louis was seeing me for what I was. His forearms were shredded by my fingernails.

  
Tears started to pour from my eyes. I wouldn’t live this down. I couldn't come back from this. No matter what I did, this was what he would remember. Ronnie stood in the corner, laughing at me silently. This was who I was and I could not have been more ashamed if I'd tried. I couldn’t come back from this.

  
Louis expression added to my panic. Everything was awful. My chest felt like it was cramping and I still didn't get a decent breath. My hand shook as I tried to lift it to push the hair out of my face. I brushed away the impossible amount of tears that were pouring from my eyes.

  
I needed to run, but I didn't even know where the fuck I was. Fear gripped me tighter and tighter as I struggled to calm my heart rate, to catch my breath.

  
Louis' hand reached out again and he touched my back gently. I jumped and swatted it away instantly, wishing straight away that I could have erased my reaction and rethought it.

  
" _Don'ttouchme_ ," it all came out as a blur. My words didn't make sense.

  
I cried and cried and wrapped my arms around myself as if I could somehow hold myself together.

  
"Harry, please." His words were coming from a place of utter terror.

  
I gripped my torso tightly, staring at the corner where Ronnie stood. "Just leave," I said. I didn't know who I was speaking to. I wanted to let Louis go. I wanted to relieve him of this, because I should not have been his problem. I wanted Ronnie to go because he was frightening me. I wasn't sure how I was even seeing him. He wasn't really there, I was about 90% certain of that fact.

  
Desperately I tried to find something in that god damn hotel room that would ground me and remind me that I was safe, but there was nothing, because I wasn't safe. There was a dead man tormenting me in a strange room in a town I didn't even remember the name of. I wasn't in London. I wasn't close to anything I knew. As I reminded myself of these things, my tears came harder and harder and my panic grew. I was miles away from a safe place. I was with people who made me feel frightened. I didn't know what Ronnie was going to do. I didn't know the first thing about Louis. I needed something to hold on to. I needed something to ground me and make me feel like less of a lunatic.

  
"Niall," I said, desperately wishing that he was there.

  
Louis hand hovered near my back, trying to find the courage to attempt to rub it again. I felt the heat radiating from his palm even though it was inches way from my skin.

  
"I need you to not touch me," my words were slow and calculated, and yet somehow I managed, still, to sound like a complete asshole.

  
Louis got out of the bed. Parts of me were crushed because I knew there was no coming back from this. I'd attacked him. Parts of me felt relief and I hoped he was running away. It would have saved me a lot of embarrassment if that was the case.

  
Within seconds Louis pressed my iPhone into my hands, Niall's face was looking back at me. I wanted to say so many things but all I managed to say was his name over and over.

  
"Harry, what's going on?" The time on my phone read 8:00 am. Niall must have been getting ready for his game, but like the selfless person he was, he'd answered my call.

  
"I don't know where I am, Niall. I'm lost and I'm scared."

  
Louis hovered in the corner, right next to Ronnie. He didn't have a clue that he was standing next to a corpse and the feeling it left in my stomach was horrifying. I couldn't look at them standing together like this. I was too wrong.

  
"Harry, tell me exactly what happened."

  
I couldn't tell him what happened because I was too panicked. I didn't remember the good things. All I remembered was the fear. The sight of Louis dying in my arms. The smell of Ronnie as he stood next to me, trying to hand me that rope. I could remember the darkness and opening my eyes to Ronnie's coffin. Louis' voice calling me a liar.

  
"Niall, I need you," I cried.

  
"I'm right here Harry. Please tell me what happened."

  
I couldn't speak. I pulled my arms tighter around myself and felt my jaw shiver like it was minus twenty in the room. My whole body was in panic and shaking. I didn't know if I was going to make it. I felt like I was having a heart attack.

  
"I want to go home," I cried, hearing Niall's voice desperately ask me over and over where I was.

  
I couldn't answer the question because Louis had fucked up. He'd confused me for someone else. He'd taken me when I was happy, when I was normal and driven me so far from my comfort zone that I felt like I was going to die. He'd thought it would last. He hadn't anticipated this, but he'd been wrong. He was living his life on some kind of whim and I was paying the price. You couldn't just take a crazy person and drive them to the middle of nowhere and expect it all to work out. Now I was lost. Louis didn't know where we were. I didn't know where we were. I didn't know how to get back.

  
"I don't know where I am Niall,"

  
"Harry I can take you home," I heard Louis' voice from across the room.

  
"Louis is with you?" Niall asked.

  
"Niall I can't do this," my head throbbed, a migraine emerging. Nausea hit me out of nowhere. I leaned over the side of the bed and threw up bile.

  
"Let me talk to Louis," said Niall as I threw up again.

  
Louis' tiny body flew across the room and snatched the phone. I threw up over and over, my body trembling as I listened to the voices of the person who had brought me to this hell and the only person who was going to be able to rescue me.

  
Tears continued to pour from my eyes. I looked up at Louis, who was reaching the phone out to me again.

  
"Niall," I said, trying to stifle my vomit. I was terrified. Every part of my body shook with my fear. "I can't breathe,"

  
"Listen to me, Harry," Niall's voice was calm and familiar. I would have given anything for him to really be there. I whimpered and tried to catch my breath, focusing on the only familiar thing I had—Niall's voice. "Your name is Harry Styles. You are twenty-two. You've been living in London for 4 years. You're having a panic attack. You are strong. You are going to be just fine." I looked up and saw Louis standing in the corner, but Ronnie was gone. "Take a slow, deep breath and hold it. I'll count to ten with you." I held my breath as Niall counted. Amazingly, the air made it into my lungs and I held it there. "Now breathe out slowly with me,"

  
My eyes still burned with my salty tears, but they were slowing the more times Niall reminded me to breathe. "Harry, I know it doesn't feel like it, but you are safe. I know you're in a strange place, but you aren't alone. Louis is there and I am here. You're going to be okay. He will take you home and you can go and stay with Liam if you need to."

  
My chest moved up and down slower and slower each time. Niall kept telling me things that were true, kept reminding me that I wasn't dreaming. "Harry, you're awake, okay? I'm sorry I'm not there for you, but you're going to get through this. Whatever happened was just a dream. None of it was real. You are strong, you can get trough anything."

  
I laid back down on the bed, curling myself into a ball with my phone pressed against my ear.

  
"You're going to be fine, Harry. I'll be home soon and we can play video games and make stupid jokes, okay? You are strong enough to make it through anything. You're the toughest person I know. I know sometimes you don't believe me, but I'm right harry. You went through hell and fought for your life instead of giving up like everyone around you. You have never given up, and this time is no different. You're going to stand up tall, get in Louis' car and go home. You're going to go to work and walk to Starbucks, drink those green smoothies and meet me the second I get home, okay?"

  
"Okay," I said. Niall sang a stupid song he always played on guitar and I focused on breathing. Now that my panic was easing, the horrors of what I'd done began to wash over me. I couldn't erase this. I couldn't make Louis forget.

  
"I told you I'd fuck up, Niall," I started to cry again.

  
"Shh, Harry, you didn't fuck up anything. You just had a nightmare."

  
I couldn't tell Niall about the way I'd lashed out at poor Louis. I didn't want to tell him about the scratches down his arms, they way the bled. I'd probably punched him and kicked him a half dozen times when I'd tried to escape his arms. I couldn't tell Niall because for the first time ever, I felt like he would actually be disappointed in me. He'd wanted me to succeed with Louis so badly, and I'd somehow taken the best night of my life and turned the world around me into a nightmare. Louis would have to be insane to not be afraid of me. I was finished. I couldn't do this anymore.

  
Niall had told me I was ready, that it was time to let Ronnie go, but all along I'd known the truth. I would never be ready. There wasn't a life beyond Ronnie, beyond the horrors of my past. There was nothing but fear and emptiness. I'd come so close to making it out, but I was a fucking fool. I'd never be enough for Louis. I would never be able to come back from the look of horror on his face. Nothing would ever make him see me as normal again.

  
"Harry?" Niall's voice was soft, and so very relaxing.

  
"I fucked up," I said again.

  
"Listen to me, Harry. I want you to get up now. I want you to get into Louis' car and let him take you home."

  
I sniffed, trying to suck in my self pity. Niall was right. I did really want to be home. I needed to get away from Louis, but this was the only way. I had to get into the car with him and drive all those hours back to London with him.

  
Poor Louis' nightmare wasn't over. He was going to have to sit with me and remember how insane I was. How I'd attacked him when he'd tried to help. I wanted to die. I wanted to die for the first time in a long time. It had been years since I'd had such a bad panic attack. Years since I wanted to crush the person I saw in the mirror. Years since I needed someone like I needed Niall in that moment. I was pathetic. How dare he call me strong.

  
I walked toward the door, my head spinning in a strange daze. Louis followed me, but he was silent. He didn't know what to say, and why would he? I didn't even know what to say.  
I sat in the back seat, directly behind Louis so he couldn't look at me. He turned the key in the ignition and began to tilt his rear-view mirror and I saw his blue eyes staring directly at me. It was the first time I really looked at him since I'd woken up. I wanted to say something, to assure him that he was off the hook—that I wouldn't bother him with my presence anymore, but the stress had worn me down. I was rough and callous.

  
"Put the mirror back," the words came out short and rude. I was stressed and angry and part of me still blamed Louis for thinking it was a good idea to bring me to a strange place. "Don't look at me."

  
I felt heaviness in my chest. I was both mad at him and mad at myself. I didn't want any of the feelings that were being forced upon me. I just wanted to be in Niall's bed, playing video games and forgetting how many horrible things I'd lived through.

  
"Harry," it sounded like a plea—like he really wanted me to stick around. He was a great liar.  
Tears came to my eyes again, "I told you Louis." I said, "I told you I'd fuck this up and you still took me out here to the middle of nowhere. What the fuck do you want from me, Louis."

  
I could see the look in his eyes. He looked like a kicked puppy. He was broken. I'd done that. The confusion in my head was unparalleled. I felt like a piece of shit, but I was so angry. I wanted to lash out more and more. I wanted to protect myself from my pain by shielding myself in anger. It was the only thing that made sense.

  
"Take me home," I ordered, "I can't stand being in this fucking car for another second."

  
"Harry, I'm sorry. I wish you'd talk to me."

  
"You're the last person on this planet I want to speak to."

  
It was simple, but effective. I managed to shut Louis up for the entire ride. I stared at my hands the entire way there. I pulled at the cuticles on all my fingers until every single one was bloody and ripped up just like my fucking brain. When I saw the London skyline, I breathed deeply, a calm finally washing over me. I jumped out of Louis' car at the first red light we stopped at. He called my name about 100 times before I was finally out of earshot.  
I found my way home quickly and climbed directly into my bed when I got home. I wouldn't dare sleep and risk waking up the same way I had previously, but I didn't know what else to do with myself.

  
I did the math, everything in my life had been in order. I had finished school, moved out, gone to university and gotten an amazing job doing something I loved. I had made friends and had begun enjoying my life. Everything had been fine—better than fine. Everything had been perfect. I'd known exactly where my life was going. I'd known exactly how every single day was going to play out.

  
And then my dumb friend Liam had to try online dating and bring a menace into my life. Louis had been nothing but problems for me. Tears poured from my eyes. I hated him. I wished I'd never met him, but now that I had it was impossible to forget him. It was the worst catch 22 I could think of.

I wanted to die.

 


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Im so sorry this took me so long to update! I have a crush and the whole focus of my life has shifted and I haven't been able to concentrate on anything in weeks. (She's amazing)
> 
> Anyway, Harry is a hard character to like, I know that, but I think we're finally getting to the point of redemption now. So, give Harry a chance, Louis is still willing! ;)

Louis

I gripped my steering wheel tightly and breathed deeply. I pressed my forehead against the wheel, my head spinning in directions I wasn't even familiar with. I knew I'd fucked up. I'd fucked up several different things, because Louis Tomlinson was nothing less than thorough. If I did something, I did it well.

  
This time, honestly, all I felt was defeat. I wanted to kick myself in the ass for it too, because I didn't do defeat. I didn't give up and I didn't cave in.

  
This time was different though. I didn't know how to come back from this level of screw up. Tears burned my eyes as I shook the steering wheel violently. I had never been this angry with myself. I'd had everything I wanted dangled in front of me and I had somehow turned it into a nightmare. It want just Harry's nightmare. It was my nightmare. It was probably Niall's nightmare. Now, I was even planning to match upstairs and bring Liam into it.

  
What a mess.

  
I exhaled slowly, grabbing my phone out of my dashboard. I had no less than 11 missed calls from Liam. 3 texts from Niall and 6 voicemails.

  
None of them were from Harry.

  
What I'd achieved so far, before noon, no less, was frightening Harry to literal hysteria, ruining Niall's holiday by demanding his help, making Harry hate my fucking guts from being the words largest dumb ass. Then, after Niall set up everything for me to succeed, Harry had darted from my car and effectively fell off the face of the earth. No one knew where he was.

  
And yet, instead of doing something, I was sitting in the parking garage of Liam and Niall's building, ducking their phone calls.

  
I felt personally responsible for ruining Harry's day/life.

  
Finally, I unlocked the screen of my phone. I searched for the only contact that really mattered, the one that said Harry Styles.

**To: Harry  
Please call me. Or Liam. Or Niall. Call someone, okay?**

  
It was weak. I didn't know how to get through to him. I was nothing but smoke and mirrors. I talked big, I was too confident and when faced with actual adversity, I'd panicked like a fucking child.

i sent a second text. 

**To: Harry  
I'm sorry...**

  
I wasn't saying enough. I wasn't doing enough. After what I'd seen I should have been more concerned with Harry than I was about pouting in my car. I breathed deeply and opened up the texts from Niall.

  
The first one read:

**From: Niall**

**are you back in London? He won't answer me.**

I felt sick to my stomach as I read the second one.

**From: Niall**

**Louis, is he okay? Please call me. I skipped my game because he's not answering me.**

The third text set my heart at ease a little more.

**From: Niall**

**I talked to his flatmate. He's home**.

I got out of my car finally, pretending mostly for myself that I wasn't a complete coward. As I made my way up to Liam's flat I thought about how stupid this whole thing was. What had I been trying to prove? I'd known all along that Harry was unstable. It wasn't hard to see. His fragility was alarming, but I'd gotten lost in Louis-land. I'd made it about me. I'd stupidly assumed that the rest of the world could function on my levels of spontaneity. I was wrong. I saw it now, but now it was way too fucking late.

  
I'd never see Harry again. There was no way he'd forgive me for freezing up like an idiot.

  
Liam opened the door and looked me up and down. “He lives,” was all he said.

  
I looked around him for any sign of another soul.

  
“He's not here, if that's what you're looking for.”

  
I nodded slowly, most of me expecting Liam to be angry with me. Instead, I was surprised as he pulled me in for a tight hug. His strong arms held me against his broad chest. I didn't cry like a baby, like half of me wanted to. I felt more like a deer in the headlights.

  
“You don't hate me?” I mumbled against his chest.

  
He pulled me away from him, holding my shoulders at arm’s length. “I'm not exactly sure what to do with that question?”

  
I raised my eyebrow, “one day alone with your friend and I send him into a catastrophic panic and then he goes MIA?” I widened my eyes, “ring a bell?”

  
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his flat. “One tends to change their expectations after prolonged exposure to Harry.” He led me to the couch where we sat together. “About 98% of me assumes that none of this was your fault,”

  
“What about the other 2%?”

  
He chuckled, “well, that's just mostly the asshole parts of me who love a good ‘I told you so’.”

  
I laughed at that, staring down at my hands. I didn't know where to go with everything. I didn't know what was happening around me. All I knew was that there was a giant ball of ice in my gut that refused to melt. I would have given anything to know what to say to Harry.

  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Offered Liam, picking off individual dog hairs from his pants.

  
“Maybe?” Was all I managed.

  
“Falling in love with Harry Styles is only an endeavour for the bravest of men,” Liam always spoke about Harry so dramatically, like he was a character in a movie instead of a regular fixture in his life.

  
“That's a bold statement,”

  
He stopped picking at the dog hair and shot me a serious look. “I've been here for the whole thing, Tommo. I've got eyes and I've got ears. I've listened to your songs. Don't be coy with me, I'm supposed to be your mate, remember?”

  
I shrugged. I still felt like everything that happened with Harry was private and sacred.

  
“You slept with him,” said Liam.

  
Again, I shrugged.

  
Liam pulled me against him, “I wish I had some insight to give you, but I've known the guy for years and I haven't got a clue.”

  
I groaned, feeling the words I had planned to hold back begin to fall from my lips. “I think I ruined everything. I don't know what to do!”

  
“Admit defeat?”

  
I was about to say something snarky in response, but Liam's phone started to ring, making us both jump out of our skin.

  
He pressed it to his ear, “Harry,” his voice sounded surprised.

  
I strained as hard as I could, trying to hear something Harry was saying. I missed his voice, a shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the way he asked me if I wanted him.

  
This whole thing was messy and confusing. I didn't know how I felt, much less how Harry felt. I was scared. I wish I could have been a better person. A person who knew how to handle someone else's demons.

  
I tried to piece together what I knew.  
I knew that Harry was hurt. That he carried burdens I couldn't imagine. I knew his boyfriend had died and that he'd since written off any thought of a relationship. I also knew that there was something between us that made him rethink that decision. I knew that he was scared. That he wasn't really sure what he wanted. It was impossible for me to know exactly what had frightened him. I didn't know how to make him trust me. How to make him see that I wasn't scared of the dark. That I could walk him through it, teach him how to open up.  
I was safe. I talked a lot of shit and tried to come off as snarky and impassive, but I'd never hurt anyone. I'd never toy with someone that way. I was stable and honestly, I'd be hard-pressed to find someone as trustworthy as my self.  
But all of that was irrelevant if Harry never planned on speaking to me again. Avoidance wasn't something I knew about. I faced everything head on. All I wanted was for him to call me and yell at me. To call me down to the dirt so I could just hear the passion in his voice again. At least if he was mad I had something to go on. I knew how to deal with that side of people. I knew how to get under his skin when he was trying to be impassive. But when he just ignored me and gave me not fear, not anger, not passion, but just searing, awful emptiness? I didn't know how to fucking cope.

  
And what was it about Harry, anyway? Why did it have to be him over every other man I'd met? Why was he the one who shook my insides and made the world burn in brighter colour?

  
What a stupid question...

  
It would have been easier if I didn't love every stupid thing about him. It was the way he breathed. The way he exhaled. It was the slow and calculated way he said a sentence in the time it took me to eat an entire meal. It was the gravel that lived at the back of his throat when he'd told me to fuck off all those times. It was the surprise I saw on his face every time he thought he had me figured out but I hit him with a surprise. It was the way he'd showed up at my door and shown himself to me. The way honesty had seeped through his words. His hair, his lips, his stupid, meaningless tattoos. The way he always dressed like he was a Hollywood model, running from the paps. The way he laughed, and the fire I saw burning in his eyes when he looked at me.

  
He was god damned perfect, and far be it from me to restrict myself. He was everything I'd ever wanted in a person. Of course I was in love with him. It couldn't be helped. I didn't know how every person in the world wasn't in love with him. With his dimples and the way he always looked like he was hiding a smile. He was fucking perfection and I was just a human being—a regular person. Of course I would fall for him. He was everything.

I watched as Liam mumbled a goodbye and removed his phone from his ear. Suddenly he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pressing me to his chest.

  
“Story time,” said Liam.

  
I felt my eyebrow raise at his word. “Okay?”

I didn't know what he was talking about.

  
"I've known Niall and Harry now for about 3 years, since we became flatmates,” he said, his hand absently working a knot in my shoulder. “When we first moved in together, I was dating this guy for about a year and I thought it was all going swimmingly, but then Harry walked in and that changed pretty fast.”

  
My stomach felt sick. There was something skewed about the way that Liam saw Harry that left an annoying ripple in my gut. “What happened?”

  
“Honestly, Louis, nothing.”

  
I laughed a bit at that, questions still flooding my mind. “What's the point of this story?”

  
“The point, Louis, is that I know Niall won't tell you anything because he'd protect Harry at all costs, but I want to be real with you. I want you to see what it's been like to be his friend the past few years.”

  
“With all due respect, Liam, I think I can figure him out on my own,”

  
“Just shut and listen would you?” Liam said, messing my hair and lightening the mood that was getting chillingly somber. “I had this boyfriend and then we started hanging out with Niall and Harry and I didn't notice it at first, but he started like, gazing at Harry and laughing a little too hard at all of his jokes and then I realized that he was gone for Harry. Harry was so fucking oblivious to everything. He doesn't think the same way as everyone else, you know? He just doesn't see love as something that might happen to him. People just... Fall for him all the time."

  
I looked over to Liam, feeling for him. Harry had hurt him. He hadn't meant to, but it had happened and it made me understand exactly why Liam talked about Harry the way he did.

  
“What happened?” I pressed.

  
“They fucked, of course.” Liam said matter of factly.

  
I felt a chill run down my spine.

  
“I get it now,” Liam said after a moment. “Harry doesn't do these things to hurt people. He just doesn't know how to cope with the bad things. He never says no because he doesn't think he deserves anything more. He wants to punish himself because of the shit that happened to him. He wants to be loved, but he's scared of everyone.”

  
My heart drummed in my chest at a ridiculous pace.

  
“Look, Louis,” Liam said again, softer than usual. “When I first saw that you were going to go for it, I wanted to protect you because I've seen so many people hurt themselves over him. It's not that he does anything. He just doesn't give. He's like a brick wall, but he's not like that with you. I'm not saying he's doing a good job, but I've never even seen him talk to the same guy twice,” Liam's eyes found mine. “He's not a bad person. I want you to know that, even though I'm pretty sure you already do.”  
The room was quiet for a moment as Liam just stared at me, searching my face for something.

  
“he asked about you,” he said finally. “When I was on the phone with him, after everything, he asked me to make sure you were okay.”

  
I felt the colour draining from my face because all I really wanted was to hear his voice sing my name. To hear the click of his boots as he walked into Liam's flat. To see the way he pushed his long hair out of his face.

  
“I never thought I'd say this to a living, breathing human being, but don't give up on him.”

  
I sighed, all the things I felt were so exhausting, but giving up was already the last option on my mind.  
“I didn't plan on it,”

...

 

It was midnight when Liam and I were sitting in the studio. No one was there but us, fiddling with ideas for songs and goofing around. Liam was more brilliant than he knew and he pushed incredible ideas out of me. We had only been writing together a few weeks, but we'd come up with some amazing work. I sat at the soundboard and laughed as Liam sang “stairway to heaven” in an impossible falsetto. His voice cracked with laughter and I nearly jumped out of my skin when my phone screamed to life In my pocket.

  
I pulled it down and felt my laughter still completely as I saw the name on the screen.

  
**Harry Styles**.

  
I swallowed hard, pressing it quickly to my ear. I didn't say anything, and for a moment I just listened to Harry's breathing. Then softly and timidly I heard his voice.

  
“Louis?”

  
I sighed, trying to regain my composure. Trying to remember how to be myself when all I wanted to do was pour out my soul to him, to beg him for everything.  
“It's only been 12 hours since you tried to ban me from your life again. I must say I'm surprised you're calling so soon,” my tone was open and friendly. I was keenly aware that this was the only way I'd probably be able to get through to him. I needed to remove the seriousness from the scene.

  
He was quiet another moment and again I memorized each breath he took. He sounded scared.

  
“Harry?” I asked softly and slowly.

  
“Can I come over?”

  
The words cut through the silence. It was the last four words I expected to hear. He was reaching out, fearfully, but reaching out none the less. I wanted to comfort him, so make him see that it didn't have to be serious and heavy and scary. That I could still be the joking idiot he had finally given in to.

  
“If this is a booty call thing, I'm really not interested in getting my heart broken.”

  
He was quiet and I kicked myself for the words. I wanted to hear his laugh trickle down the line, but instead I was met with a seriousness I didn't expect. “I'm having a really bad day and Niall is in Ireland for the week. I need someone.”

  
I heard the defeat in his words, so again I tried to make him laugh.

  
“You know, when you ask someone for a favour, you're not supposed to tell them they're your second choice.”

  
His reply came fast and it was almost too heavy for the conversation he dropped it into. “You're not my second choice,”

  
My heart slammed to a halt in my chest. Harry was reaching out, showing me feelings. Telling me he needed someone and _I_ , Louis Tomlinson, was the person he'd called. I was touched, honoured and fucking brilliantly amazed.

  
“I know,” I said.

  
Silence crept in again. Harry's breathing was slow and calculated. He was waiting for me. He was open and waiting to let me see. I didn't know what I'd done to deserve this, but phone still pressed to my ear, I felt myself putting on my jacket. I searched for my car keys as Liam stared at me through the vocal booth with confusion.

  
“I'm just leaving the studio,” said softly. “Should I pick you up?”

...

 

The car was eerily silent as we drove the short distance from Harry's flat to mine. Never in my life had I been sat in a space with so many unsaid words. I wanted to pry Harry open and dust off every single one of his secrets. I wanted to know everything so we could get passed this awkwardness. I wanted him to know me, so see me completely. I had never felt as close to another person as I had to him just last night and now he was a stranger again. I couldn't fucking handle seeing just glimpses. How many times was Harry going to open himself and then rush away, hiding behind his carefully erected walls?

  
I followed me like a sad puppy all the way through my front door. We stood in the entrance, both pulling off our coats. As I hung mine up, I watched as Harry stared at my arms, which I'd forgotten were covered in scratches. Horror painted his expression and he looked like his face was going to crack with sadness. His jade eyes were shiny and beautiful, even in his agony.

  
He rushed to me suddenly, carefully taking my arm between his perfect, cool fingers. He looked down to my eyes and I would have given anything to erase the sadness I saw. It hollowed me and I wanted to rip my arm away and tell him it was nothing, but I saw him teetering. He was about to spill and I didn't want to scare him.

  
And then it happened. Tears started to fall from his eyes and his gaze wandered anywhere but me.

  
“Do you ever feel like a monster?”

  
His words were dark and out of place.

  
I wanted to say something, I really did. I searched the back rafters of my brain for something, _anything_ that would make a difference to him. I needed him to know that no matter what he'd been through, no matter how bad our morning had been, the last thing I thought was that he was a monster.

  
But there were no words inside of me in that second that could have made any difference to him.

   
“He killed himself, you know?”

  
And no, I didn't know. I didn't _know_ anything, but I wanted to know it all. I looked at Harry and his expression was a mixture of fear and utter horror and disgust in himself. I could practically see his heart bleeding right through his shirt. I wanted to be able to say something, anything that would stop the gush of blood that was pouring from his old wounds.

  
I didn't know what else to do, so I pulled him to me. I hugged him and for just a moment I felt him rock with sobs, but it quickly slowed. I kissed the top of his head, inhaling the smell of his shampoo. His fists grabbed my shirt like he was a frightened 5 year old.

  
“It's okay, Harry,” I wispered, but I didn't know anything. I didn't know what it would take to make Harry okay.

  
“it was when we were 17,”

  
My hands crept along Harry's body as i held him close. There was a rift somewhere, an enormous tear inside of Harry because he was spilling, absolutely pouring out truths that I could never have expected.

  
“Most of the time I feel too fucked up to even make it through the day, but you make me feel normal.”

  
I wasn't an idiot. I knew this was huge for him. I wanted to tell him he was normal, to comfort him, but I couldn’t think of how many times people had probably told him that. None of those times would have matted though, because now was the time he'd finally believed it. _I'd done that._

  
It was probably one of the greatest things I would ever do.

  
He was quiet then, still clinging to me, but his grip relaxing on my shirt.  
The room was silent and all I could hear was my heart beat in my ears. I wanted to throw all kinds of words at him, but he was already so overwhelmed that I couldn't risk pushing him further.

  
“I didn't mean to hurt you, Louis.”

  
The need to vomit swirled in my stomach as I contended with the fact that he thought he'd hurt me. That he saw himself as a monster. It was all so wrong. Harry was soft and kind and funny and the person he saw wasn't the person I'd seen at all. I needed to change that.  
“I wasn't hurt Harry, I was scared because I didn't know how to help you. I'm the one who should be apologizing.”  
His grip tightened on me. My lips found his head and I kissed him softly.

  
“I don't feel safe with people,” he said quietly, and still I was astounded that he was telling me more. I hadn't expected any of this. I don't know what I thought, but Harry had opened up to me faster than I'd anticipated. I felt… Special. There was no other words to describe it. Harry made me feel like someone who mattered. Like someone who could be trusted. Like a king.

  
“I don't trust myself, Louis. The people around me… They're not happy. I don't want that for you.”

  
“Harry,” I began, but he stopped me.

  
“No, seriously.” He said, pulling away from my grip and finally brining his sparkling green eyes to meet mine. “I need you to promise me something.”

  
“Anything,” I said instantly, because in that moment, hell, in any moment involving Harry, I would have pledged to swim the Atlantic or sell my soul to several different demons and anything else he asked of me.

  
“Can you just tell me when I get to be too much?”

  
I didn't know what that meant. I didn't understand what Harry thought. Who he thought he was. He lived in a separate universe because he was utterly fucking clueless about everything.

  
“You make me happy, Harry. You're a pain in the ass and you want to argue me on everything and your taste in food is questionable at best, but I want you to let me in. I don't want you to try to protect me, because frankly, you don't have a clue what you're doing."

  
The room was silent then and he just stared at me like I'd said the rudest thing in the world. Like I shifted the direction earth was spinning in. I didn't know what his expression meant but I felt my cheeks start to burn under his gaze and my vital organs started to sink toward the floor. I didn't know what he was about to say, but it felt like he was going to shatter me. I'd never before felt the level of terror I felt while staring into his emerald eyes. His expression was pained. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were narrowed. He held the expression for so long I was sure my organs had pooled at my feet by then.

  
Finally, his slow, deep voice broke the tension in the room.

  
“Why do I deserve you?”

  
the question didn't make sense. To be fair, Harry himself rarely made sense, but this question was particularly bogus.

  
“Harry, that doesn't even make sense,”

  
then, out of nowhere (not that I'm complaining) Harry's body collided with mine. He wrapped his arms around me. I held him again, but this was different.

  
“I don't deserve you, but I want you.” He sounded broken. I would have done anything to get inside of him and destroy every bad thought he had. Harry saw the world horribly wrong. He was everything beautiful and perfect about the world. How was it that he was the only person out there that didn't see this?

  
I pulled his head off of my chest and held it between my hands. His eyes were full of pain and I wished I was a vacuum so I could have sucked out all of the hurt inside of him so that he knew what it felt like to experience the good parts of him. I wanted him to be able to see what I saw.

  
“You're insane, Harry. I'm not some gift to you, know know? I'm just a human being with my own short comings. It's not a matter of ‘deserving’ me. That's not how the world works, Harry. It doesn't matter to me what you think you've done wrong in your life. What matters to me is that you make me laugh and you make me feel stupid emotions that I thought were only real in romance novels and that you're probably the best kisser in the entire world.” He laughed a bit at that, and I continued. “You make me want to find the secret to immortality so that our time together never ends and simotaneously rip my heart out and serve it to you on a patter.”

  
He smiled at me then, foolishness falling from his lips immediately. “Louis, your heart would be full of fatty tissue. I've seen the way you eat.”

  
And we both started to laugh then because his comment was so off-beat and irrelevant and so fucking stupid. We laughed at the way I was pouring out poetic bullshit that I should have just saved for my next song writing session and not for the boy who was afraid of anything that night be classified as a ‘feeling’. His face was still between my hands and I threw my own head back to roar with laugher. His hands moved to my hips and as both of our bodies shook with our spontaneous burst of laughter, he pulled me against him. Our feet touched, our torsos pressed against each other and still we couldn't stop laughing.  
After everything that had happened that day. After the sadness, the anger, the mess and the horrors, all we could do was giggle like a couple of 4 year olds. All the words that were dying to be said now swirled in the air around us as we somehow found humour in the darkness that had threatened to consume us.  
Still, I bit down on so many more words that kept threatening to leave my mouth and I knew inside of Harry there were novels of things he's probably never said to anyone, but still, we laughed.

  
We laughed and Harry's hand slid purposefully along my back, my hips, finally resting on my ass. I dropped my hands from his cheeks and slid them along his toned chest, watching as his eyes sparkled with well earned laughter. Nobody in the world deserved to laugh more than Harry Styles did. And nobody sounded better doing it.

  
Finally, even though I hadn't even known I'd been waiting since the second I'd laid eyes on him, he pressed his pink lips against mine, laughter still bubbling from his lips. I kissed him back with fever burning my whole body, my tongue seeking refuge in his warm, soft mouth.  
He tore his lips from mine and I felt him press them against my collar bone.

  
“This time I'm ready to run,” he spoke directly to my skin, holding my body close to his.

I felt the seriousness behind his words despite our previous laughter. I held him against me, mumbling into his mess of curls.

“You don't ever have to wish for me, Harry. I'm right here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my bestie's story. She's quite a wonderful writer (:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/7211672


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry fluff chapter ^.^
> 
> Though, fluff has never been my strong suit.

**_Harry_ **

 

I opened my eyes, staring up at the ceiling above me. I felt only the most brief amount of confusion before I heard humming from somewhere behind me and the sound of a screaming Kettle. The air smelled like the bakery I worked at when I was a teenager. I was comfortably balled up on the couch on Louis’ living room and I smiled to myself as I listened to him humming parts of his own songs. I reached for the table behind my head where I remembered laying my phone and nearly screamed when I saw the time. It was 10:51 a.m. I hadn't slept that late in years. Sleep was my enemy and I normally gave up trying the second it was a socially acceptable hour, but this had gone long past a socially acceptable hour. This was bordering on laziness.

I thought back to my dreams, trying out of habit to remember them so I could analyze and move on, but the harder I thought about it, the more I realized there was really nothing much to remember.

  
Not having a nightmare was rare. Not having a dream in place of that nightmare was impossible, and yet I remembered nothing. I didn't feel wrong inside. I didn't feel sad or anxious or scared or any of the other things I felt when I woke up in the morning.

  
I sat up slowly, listening as Louis hummed Ready to Run. I felt my face flushing because I was nervous and scared because things felt different now. I'd come clean to Louis about my short comings. I'd told him what I wanted, and what I wanted was _him_ and that was probably the most frightening thing of all. I didn't know how to actually be with someone. To wake up in his house. How to speak to him now that I was awake. A very large part of me wanted to pretend for the rest of the day that I was still asleep so that I could avoid the storm that was taking place in my chest at the thought of walking over to him.

  
I mean, I wasn't scared of him, I was just scared in general. Scared in a way I was not used to. Scared that maybe I would say the wrong thing—alright, _certain_ I would say the wrong thing—and push Louis away. Scared that I wouldn't touch him right. That I wouldn't make him certain how I felt. Scared that now that I finally knew what I wanted, that he wouldn't feel the same. Maybe it was stupid. Louis had made it clear to me every day since I had met him how he felt but suddenly nothing felt safe. I'd stepped out from everything I'd stayed hidden behind for so long and I feel naked and exposed and vulnerable and it was terrifying. I didn't understand how Louis lived his whole life like this.

  
Bravely, I stood up and pulled my hair back into a bun. I looked across at the kitchen and saw Louis pulling something out of the oven. I felt myself moving toward him before I really thought about it. Soon I was standing at the breakfast bar that divided his kitchen from his living space.

  
“I thought you didn't cook,” I said softly, seeing him jump at the sound of my voice.

  
He turned around grinning, “Ever heard of Pillsbury?”

  
I felt my face glowing, my smile was so big I couldn't have contained it no matter how hard I tried.

  
I didn't try though.

  
I wanted Louis to see the effect he had on me. I wanted to laugh at his jokes all day long.

  
“That's despicable.” I joked, “you tricked me out of bed.”

  
“Out of couch, actually.” He conceited quickly, placing the baking pan on the bare counter, like a clueless idiot who had never cooked in his life. He turned to face me, a smile glued to his face, “and really, it seemed like you were never waking up, so the illusion of fresh baked cinnamon buns was the only idea I had to bring you out of your coma.”

  
I chuckled, walking into the kitchen. I brushed passed him, feeling goosebumps cover my body. I tried to ignore it and picked up the oven mitts from the counter. I slid one onto my hand and picked up the hot pan, placing it on top of the other mitt.

  
“You can't put hot things on your counter, Louis.” I lectured, “you'll leave burn marks.”

  
He came to me then, laughter spilling from his lips and his eyes sparkling in the absolute most desirable way. He slid his hands across my hips, placing his body flush against mine. His lips pressed softly against my neck and my arms wrapped around him instinctually.

  
“Good morning, Harry.” He spoke into my chest, which at that moment felt like it was going to burst open and release butterflies across his apartment. I had never imagined that three words as normal as a simple good morning could make me feel so fucking _good_. It struck me all at once that for the first time, maybe ever, it really was a good morning.

  
“Good morning, Louis.” I said cupping his face and brining it to mine.

I kissed him softly, tasting stale cigarettes and cinnamon toothpaste mixed with coffee and peanut butter.  It was the greatest thing I'd ever tasted. Louis lips moved to my neck again, where he laid dozens of tiny kisses. He gripped me tighter and tighter and chills rocked down my spine as he continued to kiss me.

  
“Harry?” He spoke directly to my skin.

  
“Mmm,. I responded, barely able to focus between the current of electricity he was creating within me and the fact that I just felt so fucking good.

  
“Thank you for last night,” he wound his fingers between mine and looked up into my eyes. “I want you know that I don't expect you to share those things with me, but I'm insanely happy that you did.”

  
Nothing could have brought me down in that moment. Remembering that I was suddenly vulnerable and that Louis had seen all the ugliest parts of me didn't scare me in that moment. I felt nothing but safe. Nothing bad could touch me in a moment like that.

  
I kissed his lips quickly and pressed my lips along every millimetre of his jawline. I placed a kiss on each one of his eyelids and looked at him then, smiling back at me. I beamed down at him, “I would have never guessed that Louis Tomlinson had this secret soft side,” my tone was so light and friendly, that I, myself, wanted to counter my own statement: _And I've never seen you act like such a human being, Harry.’_

  
He pushed his fringe out of his eyes, still smiling at me. “Of course I do, I can't just get by on my good looks, can I?”

  
I messed his hair and then pressed my lips again his again, “of course you can.” I joked, devouring every bit of him that I could. My tongue moved against his and his nails dug into my lower back in the most delightful way.

  
Suddenly, the timer on the stove went out, making me jump. Louis laughed into my mouth and pulled away then.

  
“Time to ice those beautifully homemade buns,” he said, pinching my bum as he turned away from me. I made an embarrassing sound, akin to a squeal and followed him to the counter.

  
I tried my hardest not to interfere with his pathetic attempt at icing, and just observed as he haphazardly squirted the pre-made frosting across the buns. I stood behind him, my hand on his lower back. I needed to feel his skin, and slipped my hand under his shirt. He wiggled foolishly, a giggle escaping his lips and icing spilling over the side of the dish. I laughed along with him, wrapping both of my arms around his chest. I rested my head on his shoulder, speaking into his ear.

  
“Louis Tomlinson, you're not very good at this, are you?”

  
He turned to face me his lips finding mine, a hunger burning inside of him that was very largely apparent to me. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling his body pressed against mine.

  
“I'm so lucky,” he said suddenly, his words weighing a thousand pounds, dropping into the room and making their presence known. There was no going back from here.

  
I held him against me, feeling his breath against me in the most delightful way. I kissed the top of his head.

  
“I'm happy I met you,”

  
If Louis words had weighed a thousand pounds, mine definitely multiplied that by a million to one. To be happy I met him was the most intimate thing i had ever said to another living, breathing human being. But I felt it. Even with the torment that Ronnie had caused me, I couldn't erase the joy that Louis made me feel. It was impossible. Louis was light and I had never fully been aware just how dark my life had been until he'd walked in.

  
He touched my face softly and pushed the hair out of my eyes, his own eyes sparkling in the most genuine possible way. Louis didn't have motives. He didn't just want to get laid. He didn't think I was just another pretty thing he wanted to fuck. He wasn't scared of darkness. He wanted to know the parts of me I'd tried to hide from everyone including Niall and myself.

  
“I've never met someone I wanted more than I want you, Harry styles.” Again my heart tried to beat clean out of my chest. I felt my cheeks blaze with a blush and Louis pinched them, cheeky smile set in place. “Now sit down and let me dote on you, would ya?”

  
I kissed his cheek and took a seat on one of the stools. Quickly he placed a mug of steaming hot tea in front of me. I looked at the mug which said “I love NYC” on it, a smile still set on my face. I wrapped both of my hands around the mug, savouring the warmth. I brought it close to my face and breathed in the steam. The warmth and comfort of the tea was comparable only to the warmth that Louis brought to my soul.

  
I watched him over my cup of tea as he pulled out a cinnamon bun and put it on a plate.  
“Have you been to New York?” I asked conversationally.

  
He turned around and place the cinnamon bun in front of me a quiet smile still on his lips. He nodded.

  
“I didn't know you were so worldly,” I joked.

  
“You never asked,” he stuck his tongue out at me.

  
“Well I'm asking now,” I countered. “Tell me all the places you've been so I can proceed with seething jealousy.”

  
He started to pull a bunch of produce out of his fridge and a blender appeared on the counter. I picked a piece of the cinnamon bun off and popped it into my mouth, discovering that the entire centre was still raw. My whole chest felt so light and full of air and the fact that Louis couldn't even manage to successfully bake premade cinnamon buns suddenly became the most adorable thing in the world.

  
The blender switched on and he turned around to look at me. I popped another safely cooked outer piece in my mouth and smiled at him.

  
“I went to New York last year for work. It was nice, but LA is much nicer,”

  
I narrowed my eyes at him, “you ass, you've been to LA too?”

  
He smiled and then turning back to the blender, which now held a mysterious green liquid. Seconds ago, I'd felt so comfortable with Louis, but now the idea of choking back his attempt at a smoothie made horror appear in my gut.

  
“One of the bands I work with is pretty much based in LA these days. I usually go a couple of times a year.”

  
He removed the lid from the blender and gave the liquid inside of very suspicious look, which didn't ease my horror at all. He pulled two glasses down from the cupboard above him and poured them both to the top. He popped a straw in each and brought them over the the breakfast bar.

  
“I'm now officially seething with that previously mentioned jealousy,” I said, picking apart my undercooked cinnamon bun to cover the fact that I couldn't follow through with eating it.  
He smiled and brought his own plate over, taking a seat next to me. His rubbed my thigh gently, “LA!s not going anywhere, Harry. You can see it some day,”

  
I found that every time I made eye contact with Louis it was Impossible to look away from his oceanic eyes. I tore my gaze away and stirred the smoothie with my straw, bravely, with Louis' eyes still on me, I brought the straw to my mouth. I tentatively sucked up a bit of the potential hazard and was pleasantly surprised as the sweetness hit my tongue.

  
“Yum,” I said, shocking myself by how much I enjoyed his creation.

  
He smiled at me, taking a sip for himself. His face showed visible surprise.

  
“Where did you even learn to make a smoothie this good?” I teased.

  
“Google,” he said instantly.

  
I laughed, taking a long sip. “I'll admit I was scared at first, but this is probably the best smoothie I've ever had.”

  
His expression was unreadable. Half of his face remained in a smile, but the rest of him gawked at me like I was a Picasso painting that he couldn't quite interpret.

  
“What?” I asked, a giggle escaping my lips.

  
“You're beautiful,” he said simply and I felt my cheeks flush again under his gaze.

  
“You know, I've never had an actual _good_ morning before,” I said, and watched as he began to pick at his cinnamon bun.

  
“And today isn't going to change that with a bloody raw breakfast,” he sounded angry, but he just sparked a fit of laughter in me.

  
“How dare you laugh at me Harold!” He shrieked in mock indigence.

  
I laughed harder at that, “my name has never been Harold.” I reminded him.

  
“And mine has never been Lewis,” he countered.

  
This just made me laugh harder, a snort escaping me. He just wore a dumb smile, small amounts of laughter came from him, but I think they were based mostly on the fact that I couldn't breathe because of mine.

  
“I don't get the joke,” he said finally.

  
I shrugged, because even I couldn't identify what was so funny. I think it was just the safety and the warmth of being there with him. The world felt real and full and I wasn't observing it from underwater as I had been for years. Louis had saved me from drowning as I had been for years. I just felt full and real and utterly human and I didn't have a real way to express it, other than the bouts of joy that poured out of me.

  
He reached out and took my hand in his and squeezed it lightly, “You don't have a clue how wonderful you are, do you?”

  
I stared at him, searching for something in his eyes, anything that would tell me what came next. I'd never been in this place with another person. I just wanted all of him, but the last time I had gotten it, I'd ruined everything. Fear paralyzed me.

  
“You're always so afraid,” said Louis, who was very suddenly standing, his hand still in mine.  
I gasped as he tugged me off my stool. He began to ravish my neck in kisses. I sighed deeply as his mouth left trails of heat across my skin. My whole body burned for him in a way that truly didn't require thought.

  
“I'm never gonna say no to you, Harry,” his voice was directly in my ear as he nibbled at it and sent electric shocks clear across my entire body.

  
I moaned uncontrollably. His hands were everywhere and I began to stiffen against my pants. His tongue traced patterns across my neck and jaw. Slowly his warm hands slid under my shirt and began to pull it over my head. I lifted my arms to accommodate his desire. Swiftly, he began to kiss my chest. He slid his nails slowly down my back as he bent to kiss the butterfly in the centre of my torso.

  
“Tell me what you want Harry,” his voice was low and raspy.

  
“Kiss me,” I begged him without thought.

  
His lips were on mine instantly. He sucked on my bottom lip and I gasped, my tongue prying his mouth open so I could truly taste him. My head spun. I clenched bits of his hair in my fists, throwing my whole body into the kiss. I melted into him, I had to have been nothing more than a pool of desire on the floor in front of him.

  
Maybe in the past I had done a lot of things with people who didn't give a fuck. People had always seem me as a prize, as a pretty thing they wanted to fuck. It had always been apparent to my conquests that wanting something more wasn't an option. As a result of my trauma and pain, I'd turned sex into something that was hot and fast and primal and the fact that it required another person feel like the opposite of intimacy to me.

  
Now, what was truly intimate was letting someone wake up in the same flat as me. It was letting someone see my weakness. Letting someone make me breakfast without fear, and with the full intent to stay long passed breakfast.

  
Louis was different. Everything about this situation was different, and for a long time I saw it as bad. It was change and change had always been bad. But I finally saw, that regardless of my past and the fact that my dreams could still get worse, Louis was not bad. Louis was soft and pure. He was sweet and thoughtful, but he also knew how to treat me. He knew how to lead, how to command my body to do all the thing he (and I) wanted.

  
Since I was teenager, I hadn't had sex with the same person more than once, but now I couldn't imagine someone else. I couldn't see how someone would be better than him.

  
I felt Louis hands holding my hips, grinding his body against mine and he continued to kiss me slow and deep. My mind was racing to a million places. Nothing had ever been as good as it was with Louis and I could think of a million reasons why.

  
His hand rested over my pants and my member throbbed against his palm.

  
Again, his lips were at my ear, "tell me, Harry," he urged.

  
Words didn't come out. A whine escaped my throat and I searched for his lips again. He kissed me quickly and then abruptly broke away. He held my hips still, but started deliberately into my eyes.

  
"What do you want?" His voice purred and I felt chills down my spine as I saw fire burning behind his bottomless blue eyes.

  
"You," it was vague, too vague, but I didn't care how I had it, all I knew was the miles that existed between our bodies was criminal and I shouldn't have gone on for another second.

  
A playful and devilishly sexy grin set on his face. There was lust burning in his eyes, but Louis was exceptionally good at fighting against it. He didn't so much as say a word until he thought he knew how I'd respond. He couldn't have been human. There was something God-like about the way he gave.

  
Gently at first, his hand went to my hair, petting it softly and the he took it in his first and tugged it in the most cruel way. He bent my head back and kissed and nibbled my collarbone. All I could do was release primal sounds, begging him for more.

  
"I want you to have everything you want,"

  
His words were always so to the point, which was the original reason is feared him, but now I devoured them. I didn't have to question what Louis thought because he was an open book.

  
"I have it," I said, suddenly diving into him. I pushed his body against the counter.

  
“Mmm,” he said, a crooked grin on his face, his eyelids heavy and weighted down with the desire that was combusting between us. His grip on my hair tightened and he took my lip between his teeth. His voice was a much deeper pitch than I was used to and it made my insides burn with the desire to jump out and connect with him.

  
“Tell me how you want it, Harry.”

  
I was going to fucking pass out of I didn't feel him. My hands flew to his pants, his eyes met mine. He saw me. He didn't just see me as a prop, as an easy way to spend a drunken night. He didn't see me as something he could brag to his friends about, or as a nice guy who was just a bit too fucked up to love.

  
No.

  
Louis saw me for who I really was, and even when I stood before him with most of my clothing still intact, I was stripped clean. Even if he let me believe I had secrets, I knew it was all a ruse. Louis saw all the parts of me that of spent years trying to hide.

  
But he didn't care.

  
Instead of running for his life, like I expected all men would, he pulled me closer. He said things directly into my ear, but I was deaf and I was blind. I couldn't handle anything but feeling, and all I wanted was to show him how I appreciated how he made me feel.

  
I struggled to tug his pants passed his hips, not even trying to mess with the belt that held them up. He was prefect and I kissed his mouth deeper than I'd ever kissed another being. Our bodies pressed together, my erection pressed against my pants in a way that made thought impossible. I needed to taste him, to hear him lose control in all the ways I'd lost all of mine since meeting him. He had all of my control. He ran my thoughts, commanded my body, spoke to my soul. Since the first moment I'd felt his lips, it had all been for him. I was scared and horrible at what I was doing, but dammit I'd given myself to this man. I wanted his control, even if it was just for a moment, just so he could understand the gravity of what he'd taken away from me. I was lighter and things were simpler because he took the bad things from me.

  
“I want you so fucking badly, Louis Tomlinson.” I said, bending in front of him.

  
“Jesus Christ,” was the only thing he said in response.

I tilted my head back, taking him as deeply as he could. I worked him until all I heard were soft blips of sound as he tried to hold back. Slowly, I began to taste him. I hollowed my cheeks, taking as much of him as physically possible. My hands gripped his ass tightly, my nails digging in.

  
I looked up and saw it in his eyes. He was on the edge, no sign of his composure or control in his blue eyes. He looked at me then, his jaw clenched against the words he wanted to cry out. My mind was going to explode with him. All I could see was him teetering on the edge, teasing me as he held back his climax. I didn't want him to last another second because all I could think about was how he would taste when I finally got to swallow his control.

  
Quickly I tightened my grip on his ass and plunged him deeper into my throat, his eyes shut and his head leaned back. Both of his hands released their grip on the counter and went straight for my hair. He pulled, forcing my head back and forth quickly.

  
“Harold,” the word was all breath and his last ditch effort at maintaining control over the situation. I felt his body shake as he held back his climax. What was he doing?

  
Suddenly, he pulled my head away from him without explanation.

  
“No,” I begged, wiping the back of my hand across my face and removing the first remnants of him.

  
"No yet," he gasped, pulling me up to his lips.

  
He kissed me, tongue swirling in my mouth. My breathing was heavy and I wound one of my hands in his hair and took his dick in my other.

  
"I want you to come," I whispered into our kiss.

  
His teeth found my neck and he growled against my skin. Slowly I tried to work him, desperately wanting him to give in and let me give him everything I could. Why wouldn't he just let me?

  
"Harry," he panted, grabbing my wrist. He held me back and I didn't understand it.

  
"Please," I begged, my lips pressing against his neck. I nibbled at the soft skin behind his ears. "Why won't you come for me?"

  
"I want you Harry," he said without releasing my wrist.

  
I bit down hard on his neck and felt him gasp.

  
"Then why won't you come for me?" I begged the question, needing the answer. I needed him to lose it. I needed to taste him to feel him, so bring him to the edge.

  
"Not like that," again the rasp in his voice made my skin crawl and burn for the need for his touch.

  
His hands flew to my belt, and I'd never been the kind of person capable of saying no. I caved. I melted. I let him take my pants off and I dropped them to the floor. My skin was covered in goosebumps as it met the air.

  
Louis held my face and he kissed me simultaneously like he wanted to fuck my brains out and also like he was the sweetest boy I'd ever met. I was mad. I was totally fuckkng crazy as I felt his skin against mine.

  
His hands trailed slowly down my back as he pressed his body against mine. Everything was right in the world because our skin had finally met. There was nothing on earth that could have felt better than his sweat pressed against mine.

  
I felt my hardness press against his stomach, his lips still on mine. Then without warning he turned his back to me. He pressed his ass against my hard-on and I couldn't do anything but moan at the feeling that shot across my entire body. He reached behind him and took me in his hand and worked me slowly. He pressed me against his perfect soft cheeks and my hands wrapped around his chest, pulling his body closer even though it had become very apparent in the last couple of days that there was no such thing has getting close enough to Louis.

  
“Just like this,” his voice was husky and low as his body rocked against mine.

  
I imagined pressing myself into him and the room began to spin. I could already feel myself finishing inside of his perfect, tight ass. It was still so much. There was so much behind every single move he made. I felt more in the small amount of time I'd spent with Louis than I'd felt in years.

  
And now, angelicly perfect Louis wanted me _inside_ of him. I couldn't even think straight. Everything fell over me in waves.

  
One second he'd been pressed against me, requesting things I could hardly handle. The next second we'd been in his bedroom. The next I was coating my member in lube, practically crazed with the prospect of Louis laid out on his bed, inviting me. The next, I was fucking him, hard and fast and deep and he was fucking crying and maybe I was too. I tasted salt in my mouth and my whole face was soaked in what had to be tears, but I wasn't sad. They were flowing freely and I didn't even have control over my on body, yet alone a grasp on my emotions. All I knew was the next second Louis was riding me, his nails in my skin and my lips pressed against the smooth skin along his back. He spoke, he cried, he moaned and gasped for breath as I came inside of him, our bodies collapsing on his bed.

  
It was only in the first second that our bodies were separated that I realized just how hard I was crying. It didn't make sense because I felt so fucking good in every single way. My whole body felt full and content and exhaustion was taking me over, yet somehow tears just kept pouring from my eyes. I'd never felt so confused in my entire life.

  
I was laying on my side, panting for breath and reeling from the new distance between mine and louis’ bodies. Suddenly I felt Louis against me, wrapping his warm body around mine. He held me tightly and I began to realize that I was sobbing, my whole body shaking. I was no where near a place I knew what was happening, but Louis arms around me made me feel safe, so I cried harder, not really knowing if I was crying because I'd slept with the same person twice and I wanted more than anything to sleep with him much more than twice. Or if I was crying because I feel like I'd betrayed Ronnie by feeling so close to another person. Or if I was crying because I just needed to release all the shit I'd held in and I finally had a safe place to do it. The only thing I knew was it was deep and uncontrollable and I felt _everything_  all at once. I was confused and comforted. Scared and yet completely safe.

  
Louis kissed my neck gently and I could feel his words travel all the way down to my toes. I felt my whole body warm, starting from the seizing muscle in my chest.

  
“Thank you for being yourself,”

  
The tears came harder then because I just didn't know how I could feel so fucking good. None of it made sense, but Louis made me feel a whole library’s worth of things I didn't understand, but crying had never felt so therapeutic as it did in that moment. He held me close and I wept until I finally drifted off, happiness swirling through every millimetre of my veins.


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song inspiration for this chapter: Firefly by Ed Sheeran
> 
> Basically this is a lot more fluff again.
> 
> What can I say, I'm a sucker for Larry fluff.

I was sitting in Niall's flat, laughing as Niall played one of his famous foolish songs on guitar. Liam laughed heartily and I felt arms wrapped around me. Happily I leaned back into the body wrapped around me. The room was full of happiness and I was aware instantly that this was a near perfect moment. I was here with my friends and there were arms wrapped comfortably around me.

There was a nagging coolness in the air, like someone had forgotten to turn the heat on. Despite the fact that I was in the midst of a near perfect moment, a strange longing still lived in my chest. I wasn't sad, but I was strangely less warm than I was used to. Everything in the room seemed like it was lacking some of its colour. Like I was living inside an Instagram filter. Even though the sun was beaming through the window, the warmth and colour were missing from the room and the small void in my chest lived on.

  
The arms tightened around me and I felt a cool pair of lips press against my neck. Despite the kindness and comfort behind the gesture I felt vaguely uncomfortable.

  
"Harry," the word felt wrong and extremely out of place and a cold chill took over my body.

  
Ronnie.

  
I turned to him, releasing myself from his grasp.

  
The room grew silent and I was aware that Liam and Niall has disappeared.

  
"What are you doing here?" My voice cracked on the words.

  
His hand touched my cheek and the realization of what had been missing through this whole delusion dawned on me. Louis was missing. Nothing felt warm. Ronnie's once bright orange hair was less that lustrous. His eyes didn't shine and his skin was tinged green. The whole room looked like the lights weren't on, despite the fact that the sun was clearly hung in the sky, shining in a suspiciously dull way. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, but everything was dreary. Ronnie's voice wasn't right.

  
For once I wasn't scared. The look in his eyes told me I didn't have anything to fear just now.

  
"I miss you, Harry."

  
And I missed him, I missed him always but something was different now. Something was lacking from this scene. Despite the fact that this was the sort of dream I used to always look forward to. I didn't feel connected. I felt far from him and so sad. I missed how I used to feel. I missed him and everything we had, but even with him here, holding me I still felt empty.

  
"Harry, please." He ran his hands through my hair and across my cheeks, just staring at me.  
I wanted to feel him, but I felt nothing.

  
"I want it to be like it was, Harry. I promise I can be better."

  
Better than what? Better than the monster who had tortured me in my dreams for the last few weeks? Better than the monster who'd killed himself and destroyed my dresms? Or better than Louis? I didn't understand.

  
"I'm sorry, love." His voice was soft and he stayed gentile, but I found myself still waiting for the other shoe to drop. I waited for the scene to twist, for him to turn back into a monster. For him to decay before my eyes and threaten me.

  
"I've been bad, Harry, but I didn't know how to handle it. I don't know if I can ever let you go. I can be better, you just have to give me the chance."

  
I wanted to tell him something, but I felt 5000 different things and I didn't know which was the most accurate.

  
"I know you like Louis, but Harry, you're my soulmate. I can fix this."

  
“You're dead."

  
The words settled into every inch of the room and made us both shiver. No matter how in love we had been all those years ago, there was no way we could change that fact. Ronnie could never be there. I could never hold him, and no matter how hard I held onto his memory, I couldn't change that.

  
“Harry, please. I'm fading. Why is it him?”

  
The words hung in the air and the hair on my neck stood up. Ronnie asked the one question I really couldn't answer. I didn't know why I cared for Louis the way I did. I also didn't know if it was Louis. I didn't know if it had ever stopped being Ronnie. My whole life revolved around him and all of his choices. I didn't know how he could ask a question like that. I didn't know how he could assume anything.

  
“Harry, listen to me.” He took both of my hands and stared deeply at me. “I can do it, I can be better. I've been bad to you, Harry, but don't let me go. You're everything I've got. I can be better.”

  
“You're dead,”

As I repeated it again, the gravity of it spilled over me. He had been dead for a long time, but until Louis it had never felt that way. He'd felt distant, but he was never unreachable, but suddenly the reality of it all actually hit me. He wasn't alive and I could never really have him.

“Harry, we can be okay, you just have to give me the chance.”

...

I sat straight up and gasped for breath. My eyes flew open and I tried to centre myself with my surroundings. The sun blazed through the window and I felt fingers lightly trailing down my back. I remembered I was in Louis’ bed. My heart drilled in my stomach for a moment until I remembered the magic that radiated from his body. There wasn't a reason to be scared because the only thing that surrounded me was perfection.

  
I fell back on the bed, resting my head on the pillow. I fed my legs through his and wrapped my arms around his warm body. Emotion overtook me as I remembered the emptiness that I'd felt in my dream without him. I pawed at his body, trying to bring myself closer than was actually possible. I buried my face in his neck and listened as his heart beat out a slow and steady rhythm.

  
I felt his low chuckle, “Hi.” He said like he hadn't expected my reaction, but things were different, maybe more different than Louis could ever understand.

  
He wrapped his arms around me and his fingers tickled down my spine and I memorized the way the cook of his neck smelled and tried to capture his warmth through every pore of my body. He didn't understand how much better everything was when my skin was against his.  
We were silent for a long time before Louis finally spoke.

  
“Can I ask you something I think might be pretty personal?”

  
I trailed my fingers across his abs and spoke to his neck still, “yeah.”

  
He could have probably asked me anything in that moment and I'd likely have answered it without hesitation. I'd never felt to comfortable and safe.

  
He exhaled softly, “you said something when you were asleep, and I…”

  
He didn't know the rules had changed and that everything was in his favour now.

  
“Ask,” I said against the goosebumps on his neck.

  
“Who's Ronnie?” I felt his body tense in his anticipation of my escape.

  
“It's okay,” I assured him, because I didn't feel scared. I just felt naked and stripped down and honest. “My boyfriend,” was all I said.

  
Louis contemplated that then and he was silent a long time. I hadn't said his name to anyone since Niall. Louis already knew so much, and he had an ability to fill in blanks and understand more than I gave to him. I didn't know why I felt compelled to tell him about myself and about my past, but I felt like he had to know. Like we could never be truly whole until I'd shown myself inside and out. Maybe I wasn't the open book that most people were, but I was giving and it was the best I could do for now. Maybe Louis appreciated it or maybe he didn't understand the magnitude, but regardless of how he processed it there was one emotion that was lacking from the whole equation that had bogged me down for years: regret.

  
There wasn't an ounce of it inside of me. I didn't feel badly about sharing with him because he'd given me so much and he'd filled the spaces inside of me where I'd kept awful secrets with just pure and simple emotion. He made me feel good. Like every dumb little insignificant thing I'd done in my 22 years had been pivotal in shaping the world. Like I was the most important person alive. He made me feel wanted despite the fact that I (and everyone I had ever met) had written me off as a lost cause and damaged goods.

  
Louis’ question took me off guard when it finally came, his grip on my body not faltering for a second.

  
“Is he still your boyfriend?”

  
Everything he said was so full of depth and importance. I suppose what he was asking was fully valid and made perfect sense given the intent he'd made clear to me. He didn't want to my friend.

  
“I…” My word hung in the air because I thought of Ronnie's face, of the pressure I'd see in his eyes if he was there right now. And then I thought of the look in Louis eyes just earlier that day, when I'd given himself to me, when he'd asked for me to take everything he had. When he'd let me bring him over the edge and shown himself to me.

  
There wasn't really a proper way to answer the question, to address the feelings I felt for them both.

Louis was holding me closer now, like he was afraid he'd asked too much.

  
“I guess he never really stopped being that,” the words made a nauseated feeling settle into my stomach, like my honestly still wasn't enough to appease them both. “He just kind of stopped being alive,”

  
I closed my eyes, bracing for the disappointment Louis would feel from my honesty. I could see Ronnie's expression and it was everything I expected of Louis. His eyes were downcast and I could tell immediately that my answer hadn't satisfied him. He made me feel like I was breaking some sort of rule we'd had by acknowledging the fact that he wasn't there. He looked at my like he honestly believed that if we didn't talk about it, it could be like he was still there. 

Louis held me close and his hands stroked my hair softly. “Harry, I'm sorry.” I didn't need the apology because of had enough of those to last me the rest of my life, what I did need were his next string of words. For some reason, even though I'd heard similar ones from Niall hundreds of times, Louis' words had a gravity to them that brought me back down to reality.

  
“I can't imagine losing someone like that.” I felt his lips against my hair while he spoke. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” This time his words were slower and much more calculated, “you're incredible and brave and you've seen more than I can imagine. I don't expect you to just let me walk in and change everything you worked for. I'm not even sure how to be what you need. All I know is how to be the best I can be. I'm not saying I want to replace him Harry. I can't change the past and I wouldn't want to honestly. I think you were lucky to have someone you love so much and I think despite everything you've been through that it's made you into something amazing and strong and I'd just be lucky to be anything to you.”

  
Tears burned behind my eyes.

  
Louis pulled my head off of his chest and again tears I really didn't understand threatened to fall. He looked into my eyes and his words came as a soft, comforting whisper.

  
"You'll always love him, Harry. That's okay."

  
I wanted to speak, but I felt unsure of what I would say. Finally I asked him why is been wondering for a long time.

  
"Have you ever been in love?" I said, still looking in his eyes.

  
His expression became unreadable. He shrugged and his eyes left mine. That was the worst answer Louis had ever given me. I'd hit something in him. I'd asked him a question he wasn't prepared for and he didn't immediately spew a perfectly open answer. All I got was a shrug. I was intrigued.

  
“How do you know you haven't been?” I tried, searching his eyes for something I understood.

  
Then, in the most out of character way, Louis cheeks flamed with a blush. What nerve had I hit? Why did I feel like grinning like a kid being offered a triple-decker ice cream in the heat of summer. Why was my heart trilling in my chest and why were my hands clamming up?

  
“I didn't say I haven't,”

  
I just stared at him, trying to read what was going on behind his eyes. Trying to understand what the heat behind his cheeks meant. In typical Louis fashion, he regained himself quickly and the vulnerability washed away from his face and he brought things back to me.

  
“You really loved him, didn't you?”

  
I nodded, “but it's not the same. Everything is so different now.”

  
“You've changed.” Louis said simply, like it didn't mean anything. Like 'change' was just a word with zero-gravity attached to it. “you can't be expected to stay the same your whole life. Love changes when you change. Different people fit you at different times. It doesn't mean that you were wrong the first time, but people don't stay the same. We change, love changes, it's all part of life.”

  
Louis said it so plainly, like it was the most simple conclusion he'd ever drawn. He didn't know that his words created a storm inside of me. It wasn't just a storm of doubt, but a sort of rain storm that came after years of drought. I'd needed his words. I'd been waiting years to hear them, even though I hadn't known I'd been so thirsty all along.

  
I was quiet for a moment and then a one sided smile slipped through, “we're you a philosophy minor?”

  
Louis chuckled at that and just stared at me for a moment, stroking my hair softly. His eyes didn't leave my face. He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time, like I was buried treasure or on the list of the wonders of the world. Maybe he really was seeing me for the first time. I felt like I was seeing parts of myself I forgot existed. I'd forgotten there was joy inside of me. I'd forgotten I could be vulnerable without fear. I'd forgotten so many things that Louis was teaching me all about.

  
"Look, Harry, I can't even imagine what you've been through, what its done to you…”

  
"I was just a kid," I said and I felt less like I was falling apart as I'd imagined I'd feel talking about this, and more like my armour was falling ofrom. I felt lighter in my chest. I felt calm and relaxed. "It changed me."

  
His hand slid softly across my cheek, his fingers trailing down my jaw, "of course it changed you. Everything in life makes us change. The trick is doing it gracefully and I think you have."

  
I sputtered a laugh at that, thinking of the therapists, the medication, the nights I'd stayed awake wishing my heart would just stop. Louis had seen firsthand my utter lack of grace so I couldn't be certain what he thought he was talking about. I'd fallen from grace daily for seven years and I imagined there would be several more tumbles before I figured out how to handle the new place I had ended up in.

  
"I'm serious Harry, you left home on your own and went to school and made a life for yourself in London. You have a career that you're passionate about and so talented at." He paused, "people who have been through less than you have given up easier. You didn't give up, Harry. You're brave and strong, there's no point to argue it because everyone but you can see it."

  
My heart hurt again, I was certain it was seizing in my chest and Louis' messy morning hair and his warm breath and utterly sincere blue eyes would be the very last thing I saw. Normally I was composed enough to brush off his compliments and make it into a joke or hide it behind anger but this one hit home. This one made my insides tingle. A stupid grin came onto my face and I wanted to crush it and make it disappear because as soon as he saw it, Louis started laughing and I felt my face flush uncontrollably.

  
He kissed me then, sweet and soft and I felt his laughter slip in along with his tongue and I felt gooey and happy and parts of me were horrified at the thing Louis had turned me into. We were gross. We were romantic. We talked about feelings. We cuddled and I told him my deepest, darkest secrets.

  
But it was magic.

  
I had feelings I couldn't control. I felt alive and real and... More. I just felt more like a person than I had in the last 7 years of my life. Maybe even longer than that. Sure, it was gross and we quickly became exactly the thing I'd despised in others, but it worked. I felt good. I didn't feel dependant and stupid and obsessed with him, I just felt like I was finally a full and real version of myself.

  
It was despicable that I'd abandoned my morals and all that, but most importantly I realized one pivotal thing: I had been wrong.

  
I, Harry Styles, master of the one night stand the most closed minded and emotionally void human being, had been wrong.

  
It wasn't love that was the problem. The problem had been that I'd never met Louis.

  
It sounded stupid and cheesy and I was keenly aware of that, but I couldn't help any of it.  
There had been something missing in me for so long. I had never known how to be real. How to be whole, but now I saw it. Every minute flaw I saw in myself somehow gleamed in Louis' eyes. I couldn’t do wrong because he knew every part of me and found fault in plenty of it, but instead of running from it, he just nurtured me. He just cared anyway.

  
"Let's never leave this bed again," I mumbled against his lips. "Let's make it like this forever,"

  
His hands trailed across my stomach and his lips erected statues of desire all down my neck and across my body. He spoke against my goosebumps, "okay," was all he said.

  
He didn't remind me of our jobs. Of our friends. Of the bills we had to pay, or the food we'd have to eat. Of the showers we'd need or the fact that a whole world existed outside of his bedroom.

  
Instead he just held me. He kissed me and kept me in his bed for the entire day. Maybe he'd given up his job; it had been a few days. I didn't question it because my own schedule was wide open and I couldn't even fathom being in another spot than the left side of Louis’ bed. Than the sanctuary in Louis' arms.

  
We ordered Chinese food and watched an entire season of orange is the new black, all without me leaving his bed for more than a quick wee. Some episodes were more memorable than others, and some were forgotten completely (I couldn't possible pay attention against the magic that was Louis' mouth). We laughed, we fucked. We kissed, we talked. We cuddled and we planned. We slept and he snored. And then finally, the following morning, I plugged in my long dead iPhone and the real world came crashing back in.

  
I didn't know how many hours we had wasted in his room just being us. My guess was somewhere between 24-36 of them. I hadn't showered. We hadn't eaten anything but cold Chinese and our own desires. But finally, the threat of the real world and the job I had to return to tomorrow (tomorrow _was_ Saturday, right?) crept in and I charged my phone and read through my emails while Louis' hands massaged the knots in my neck. Finally, I saw the voicemails I had and caved. I pressed the phone to my ear and felt chills fall down my spine as Louis' lips found my neck again.

  
I was faced with the honey-sweet voice of someone if forgotten I'd missed. I smiled at the sound of her voice. The first voicemail brought an elevated joy.

  
"Haz, baby, it's me!" She beamed, "I'm in London to see a show tomorrow! I'm coming to crash on your couch."

  
I felt a pang of guilt when I realized the voicemail was 2 days old.

  
"Who was it?" Louis had made it his lot in life to never speak anywhere but directly to my skin, which made it very difficult to concentrate on how bad I felt.

  
"Gemma," I said softly.

  
"Who's Gemma?"

  
And I remembered then that Louis knew all the deepest darkest things, and I felt like he'd been there for ages, but the reality was, I'd hadn't really told him much about myself at all. He didn't know the simple things, the things that did bring me joy.

  
"My sister," I said, turning to him and pressing my lips to his cheek. "She's in London,"

  
"Brilliant," he responded, his small hands still breaking up a knot against my right shoulder blade.

  
The next voicemail was much less cheerful, “Haz, I've been outside your apartment for two hours. Where the hell are you? Niall said he's in Ireland and you haven't been answering his texts? I'm worried, you need to call me.”

  
Two hours later, her voicemail edged on panic.

  
“Harry, baby, I need you to answer me. I'm in your bedroom, your flatmate let me in but he says he hasn't seen you in a few days. I'm scared, Harry, please call me.”

  
I knew Louis could hear the voicemails, even though he pretended not to listen. I wondered quietly how Louis saw me. I knew what my sister saw, what Niall saw—what pretty much everyone who'd known me more than a few weeks saw. They saw my fragility. They saw my instability. They saw me as a risk, as someone capable of dark things. Of sad things. It seemed like Louis saw someone else. Like he didn't feel the need to coddle me and protect me from my own darkness. No one else was like that. Everyone feared for me.

  
The next message was my mother.

  
“Harry, love,” she began, “I was talking to Gemma. Where are you?” I heard the panic in her voice. We didn't talk much, but I could always count on her over-reactions the moment I didn't respond to her text messages. She always expected the worst of me. “You have to call us, Harry. If something is wrong I want to help, please don't shut us out. Harry you’ve got to call someone back.”

  
I sighed and took the phone away from my ear. I hit the delete button until there wasn't a single message left. Louis felt my tension and pressed his hips against my shoulder, making my body instantly relax and sending shivers deep into my soul.

  
“Everything okay?” He knew everything wasn't okay, but he gave me the choice to lie and say it was fine. He wasn't trying to force a thing out of me, still unaware just how much power he now had. How much of my trust I'd placed in him.

  
“My whole family thinks I'm dead.” I said the words with gritted teeth because I simultaneously wished everyone knew how happy I now was and would stop worrying about me, but also I wanted to save this for just us. I didn't want Louis and I to be ruined by the outside world. I didn't want my past and the people who'd known me to change and taint what we had.

  
“And why is that?”

  
I laughed then, turning to him and pecking his lips quickly. “Maybe because I've been holed up with a strange man and haven't spoken to anyone for days?”

  
“I do not drink green smoothies and speak like a mad poet. I am not nearly as strange as you are, Harold.” He kissed me softly and ran his nails lively across my shoulder blades. I smiled despite the shit-storm I knew awaited me outside of Louis’ front door. He kissed my cheek and kissed my cheek as he got out of his bed. “Call your sister while I make us some tea.”

  
It was gloomy out, and barely any sun came through the window in his bedroom, but my breath hitched in my throat as I watched his naked body glide passed me. The light caught the curve of his back and his pale skin glowed in the dull room. It wasn't desire. That was not the right word for what I felt stir inside of me when I looked at him. I didn't just desire him. I didn't just _want_. The words didn't fit. I needed to use my mouth, my hands my legs my tongue, to memorize every inch of him. It was a _necessity_. I couldn't be away from him. Not now, not when he cruelly crossed the room, looking like that. He reached for his robe and tied the belt around him, crossing the threshold of his bedroom door and I was going to explode. He wasn't meant to be so fucking far away from me.

  
I dove from the bed and tackled him, pressing him against the wall just outside his bed room. My lips found his neck and my hands instantly undid the rope around his waist. I slid my hands under the fabric, gripping his hips and pressing his skin on my skin.

  
“Miss me?” He said before my mouth met his.

  
I held him against me and tried to fill him with everything I felt. With everything I wanted to feel and everything I was scared to feel. I wanted him to have it all. I wanted him to just take everything bad that had ever happened to me and turn it into good, like he had done so much of already. I would have given him my heart entirely had it of been physically a possibility because in that second I was feeling poetic and full of feeling that would have revolted me in another life.

  
“Thank you, Louis.” I said into his mouth.

  
“What did I do?” His smile was playful and mischievous and impossibly appealing, his lids heavy and his eyes sparkling with what I now knew was desire.

  
“For being light.”

  
“Remember what I said about cryptic?” But the way his eyes glowed at me I felt like he knew exactly what I meant but didn't want to be so bold as to easily aknowledge how well he knew me already.

  
“You're light, Louis. Everything was so dark before. When you first came into my life I didn't like it. I'd been in the darkness for so long that my eyes just didn't want to adjust.” I paused because previously Louis had mentioned how I spoke like the world was poetry. Like everyone understood my roundabout form of speech. “But everything is so much clearer in the light, I'm seeing things I haven't seen in years. You did that Louis. You turned on the lights and no matter how many times I tried to shut them off, you just stayed there, like you knew there was things I needed to see. I can't actually ever adequately word whatever it is you make me feel, so I'm just saying ‘thank you’. It's easier.”


	17. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Harry.
> 
> Louis gets the next chapter.

Harry

  
"I can't believe you called mum," I whined from the bear-hug Gemma was holding me in.

  
"You didn't answer your phone for 2 days and your best friend told he didn't have a clue. I don't see that I really had a choice."

  
I whined again, burying my face in her hair. "You're a nuisance, but I missed you."

  
She laughed and kissed my cheek, "I missed you too, love."

  
We were on the couch in my flat and I was wearing the largest outfit Louis owned and I kept smelling him through the fabric, only making this inevitable distance more pronounced. There was something strange and wrong feeling about telling Gemma about him. I kept remembering the funerals. Her arms around me, her tears soaking my neck. She'd been so invested in mine and Ronnies life. Gemma and I had always been close. She'd been my best friend since birth. She and I were nothing like siblings were made out to be. We'd never fought or worked against each other for any reason. I'd always been her teddy bear. She'd brought me everywhere and doted on me.

  
Of course, when my life fell apart it had all changed. She'd done everything she could to keep me, but I couldn't stay. She'd held back going to Uni to be with me. She'd done so much more than I'd ever be able to thank her for, but in the end it had changed very little. I was already a different person by that point. I had left for London because I'd lost hope in rediscovering who I'd been. My only choice was to start over with people who didn't know the person I'd been. People who couldn't be disappointed with my change.

  
It hurt her, just like it had hurt everyone else, but she supported me. She drove me to my dorm room and visited me for every insignificant reason she could. And since then, since I'd found Niall and Liam and my career, since I'd stabilized, she'd become my biggest fan.

  
But still, something was nagging at the back of my mind. Louis had brightened everything in my life, but I still felt wrong. I'd made promises. I'd been through so much when Ronnie had gone, when Tessa had left. Gemma had seen it all. Held me through it all, drove me to therapists and made it her mission to cheer me up. She'd been there for it all. She'd listened to me swear for years that there would never be anyone else. Now I felt like a liar. Like the entire life id had before Louis was a lie. Like I'd spent so long trying to hold on to Ronnie that letting him go, even in the smallest way, was the most ultimate of betrayals.

  
Gemma studied my face, looking for fault As she always did. She knew I wouldn't tell her anything, so she'd become a master at reading between my lines.

  
"You look good," she said finally.

  
I narrowed my eyes at her, thinking about Louis giant sweater that half hung off of one of my shoulders (how did he even own something so large?) and the too tight and too short track pants that were on my body. She had to be insane. My hair was frizzy and still half-wet (Louis really needed to invest in conditioner).

  
"You're kidding, right? I'm a hot mess."

  
She laughed at that, squeezing my knee joyfully. "I didn't say 'Harry, your outfit's great', I just mean _you_ seem good. Your cheeks actually have colour, you seem... Happy."

  
Damn my sister and her impeccable perception. She would never let this be. She would dig until she found all the Louis shaped skeletons in my closet. And dammit, she was right. I felt so much happier and so much fuller. I couldn't explain it--not to her, let alone to myself.

  
"Something's different," she mused, as she took a section of my hair and started braiding it. I relaxed into the gesture, remembering how much I missed my sister's gentile hands and soft voice.

  
"I'm just trying to figure out where you disappeared to for 2 days without telling anyone and came back.... Happy."

  
Thankfully she was too caught up in braiding my hair than making eye contact with me. I felt my cheeks flushing.

  
“If you were anyone else, I'd assume you were out getting laid, but I know you. That doesn't take 2 days."

  
I stayed silent, staring at my hands. She was pushing and poking very close to the truth and it was making me feel a bit nauseated to be honest.

  
Finally, she abruptly dropped my hair and turned my head to face her.

  
“You're hiding something,”

  
I shook my head, “I'm not hiding shit, you fool.” I tried to make it a joke, but her knowing state pierced through my pretences.

  
“Why can't you just give me this one thing, Harry? Just one time, tell me what's really going on with you.”

  
I sighed and took her hands in mine, “I've been doing some different work things lately. I've been doing photos for a band, for their album.”

  
Gemma just dead-ass stared at me with the most annoyed look on her face. “So I'm supposed to believe that music photographers for 48 hour shifts? How daft to you think I am?”

  
I groaned, “Gem, there's nothing to tell you,” the slipped out of my mouth just the second that my phone buzzed on the coffee table.

  
Gemma’s eyes locked on mine and she just stared straight at me, narrowing her eyes. Then, without warning, we both pounced on my phone at the same time, but she grabbed it first. She laughed and held it out of my reach, checking the message on the screen. She grumbled and dropped it on my lap.

  
“Don't think for one second I won't figure out what's going on with you,”

  
I looked down at my phone and grinned with pleasure when I saw **Niall Horan**  lit up on my screen.

  
“I have nothing to hide from you, you crazy person. You can dig all you want.”

  
She rolled her eyes at me as I slid the screen open to read niall’s message.

  
**Drinks tonight. My place. Bring Gemma.**

  
**You're back?**  I responded quickly.

  
**Yes. my best friend had a giant crisis and then no one heard from him or the guy he's fucking for 2 days. I didn't really have a choice but to come back.**

 

 **"..."** I responded, following it up with a second message: **sorry.**

  
The dots appeared on the screen as he typed. Then his message appeared. **It's okay. I miss you, you wanker. Don't ditch me tonight.**

...

 

Finally, I bathed properly and put on an outfit that actually fit me. Gemma was in the shower and I was curled up on the couch with my phone in my hand.

  
I listened as the shower blasted from the next room. Gemma was a piece of work. Her prying skills were unparalleled and I cursed her intuitive nature. All I wanted was to fly under the radar. I felt like a liar and a phony and I just didn't need her judgement to worsen a situation that was already far enough out of my comfort zone.

  
It wasn't that I regretted what I felt for Louis. It was just that it was so far away from what I'd imagined for myself. I'd lied to myself and insisted that I was content in the way I'd been living. I'd told myself that aside from Ronnie's absence that nothing was missing in my life. I'd believed for so long that no one would change who I was. That no one could affect me.  
And now I had one gigantic piece of evidence proving that I'd been wrong all along. Louis had told me that I was lucky to love someone as much as Ronnie, but he was wrong too. Because if I'd ever really loved Ronnie, Louis wouldn't be under my skin the way he was. He wouldn't be a question. He wouldn't have turned ronnie into a question.

  
My phone buzzed in my hand and I looked down and saw Louis' name. My heart drummed in my chest, because even with the pressure and fear I felt inside of me, the moment I remembered his presence, I was transported back to the magical place that existed only for us.

  
**My pillows smell like you and it's making me lonely.**

  
He was always so upfront. So honest about his feelings. My heart lurched in my chest and I couldn't think of anything to say back to him. I found his contact name and dialed him. He answered after half a ring.

  
"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Nonchalant himself."

  
"I keep smelling your sweater. I get it. It just makes me miss you more too."

  
I felt my heart dangling out there, somewhere with in the airwaves that existed between our telephone call. It was mangled and twisted and suddenly so full that I didn't know what to do with it on my own, so I just kept trying to hand it to him.

  
And he kept taking it with such care. I was bleeding for him, and he was covered in it, in all the emotions I didn't know how to feel. But he got it. He understood it. He knew what to do with my mangled, and mutilated muscle. He knew how to exist covered in my poetic darkness and strangeness.

  
"Then, come back."

The sincerity of his words just kept crushing me over and over and I imagined myself sitting on that balcony next to him and screaming that I didn't want what he offered. That I'd never _need_ someone. I remembered wrestling with what I felt when he'd kissed me in his car after I'd been so rude to him during the movie with our friends. I wondered why he'd given me so many chances. Why he'd turned his mirror to look at me after I'd panicked inside of that b &b. Why he wanted to see me at all, because maybe I'd put on some nice outfits and fake smiles and combed my hair, but my insides were a macabre painting come to life.

  
"Why?" I breathed

  
"Christ, Harold, you are the most daft person I've ever spoken to."

  
I laughed then, remembering all the little things that made Louis, Louis.

  
"Maybe I just need you to tell me again,"

  
He grumbled, "it's everything. You're everything."

  
I felt my face flushing and I heard the shower turn off.

  
"Listen, Louis. My sister..." I didn't know how to say it. How to tell Louis that he made me the happiest I'd been, maybe ever, but that I didn't want to tell Gemma. There wasn't a nice way to tell him that even though he gave me everything, that I wanted to hide it. It wasn't graceful. It wasn't fair to him and it wasn't fucking normal, but I couldn't cope with the look on her face when she asked about things. When she remembered Ronnie.

  
"You don't want to tell her about me,"

  
Louis fucking knew everything and it was impossible to not feel hurt at his realization. I hated myself because I'd gotten everything from this man, and what had I given him? I'd given him a hopeless and defeated tone of voice. I'd done that. It was all me.

  
"It's not that,"

  
"I get it," he said, cutting me off, making me feel somehow more crushed. "You're not ready."

  
I wanted to be better. To be able to tell him he was wrong. That I wanted to shout it from the roof tops and introduce him to everyone I'd ever known, but I couldn't. There was a devotion inside of me to Ronnie that felt sinister to break.

  
His sigh floated down the line and I was keenly aware that he was trying to hide his hurt to spare me my feelings and I felt like the most vile human being that had ever walked the earth.

  
"I'm sorry," my words were small and insignificant. "I know that's not enough."

 

Again he sighed, "yeah, Harry. Yeah it's enough."

  
Why did he do that? Why did he try to protect me. I felt evil and tainted and undeserving of everything.

  
There was silence again after that. Silence I should have filled with the million words I was too afraid to say to him. He made me feel so much and he deserved so much that I couldn't understand why he accepted so little. He should have demanded more of me, because he could have found everything somewhere else. There was no reason that he should settle for me.

  
“Listen, Harry, I've got to go to the studio.” He was closing the call, finishing the lack of conversation and there was an iceberg in my stomach. It radiated cold through my whole body and it didn't feel like he was just ending a phone call. It felt like I was never going to see him again, and what more did I deserve? There was no way to back-pedal the conversation and make it end differently. There was no way to suddenly beg him to stay when I'd essentially told him he needed to stay a dirty secret. I couldn't ask him for everything and give him nothing. I had no leverage here.

  
“Goodbye,” 

  
I pulled the phone from my ear once he'd hung up and just stared at it as the finality of the word floated in the air around me. I stared at his name on the screen until the words faded to blackness. I exhaled deeply. I would have given anything in that moment to have been another person.

 

I felt gemma’s arms wrap around me from behind. She kissed my cheek quickly, “why so glum, chum?”

  
“Not a thing, sis.” But I was never a good liar and she didn't believe me, I was certain of it, but she didn't press, because even she knew her limitations.

….

  
Gemma followed me into Niall's flat, where I was immediately swept into a hug I hadn't realized I'd been needing so badly. He held me close and I felt my spine crack in a very pleasant way. I laughed against him, remembering just how much I missed him when he was gone. 

 

He kissed my cheek, “I missed you, you evasive cunt.”

  
I laughed and pulled him tighter, hearing Louis’ voice from the living room. Fear mixed into my stomach, along with a burning desire to never again leave the safety of Niall's bear hugs.

  
I leaned into niall’s ear, “Gem doesn't know about Louis.”

  
He growled, disagreeing with the nature of the warning I was giving him. “I don't know about him either you fucking wank bank, you can't expect me to keep my mouth shut when I'm dying to know the details.”

  
“I don't have any details,” I hissed, trying to make Niall keep his gigantic voice down was a kamikaze mission.

  
“You liar, I know you're fucking. You better tell me what the fuck happened for the two days you didn't answer your damn phone, or we’re done, Haz.”

Niall's threats were always about 80% joke and 20% him really trying to convince me to give him the details.

  
“Later,” I said defeatedly, “but keep your mouth shut to Gemma.”

  
He groaned dramatically.

  
“Gemma, so good to see you again!” I heard Liam, the king of pleasantries sing loudly.  
I felt discomfort with the knowledge that Gemma and Louis were standing in the same room.

  
I could hear Louis talking to someone that I didn't recognize. The voice was also female. I strained to listen to the train wreck of people in the living room.

  
“This is my good friend Louis and his sister Charlotte,” Liam cooed. “This is Harry's sister Gemma.”

  
“Call me Lottie,” said the mystery voice.

  
“Nice to meet you Gemma,” Louis’ voice left a deep ache in my chest. I had to enter the room. I disengaged myself from niall's arms and dove into the room as fast as I could.  
Everyone was suddenly looking at me and my panicked entrance.

“Hi,” I said to Louis, feeling stupid until I saw his face ignite with a genuine smile the made his eyes scrunch up. My insides did something similar to a backflip and I felt myself smile at him like a moron.

  
“Hi, Harry.” He said, gesturing to a tiny and outrageously blonde girl seated next to him on the couch. “This is Lottie,”

  
She jumped from her place on the couch and grabbed my hand, her eyes sparkling like I was her favourite backstreet boy and she'd dreamed of meeting her entire life. He shook my hand excitedly and I couldn't help but laugh at her reaction. Louis’ face was flushed beat red. She pulled me in for a tight hug.

  
“You're so pretty!” She gushed, and I stared over her shoulder at Louis who looked like he was in some sort of physical pain. Recognition settled into my chest, making everything less horrifying for a moment. He'd told his sister about me, and now she was blowing it. He was mortified because her reaction was so genuine I could literally feel the conversations they'd probably had about me.

  
“Thanks,” I whispered, escaping her hug narrowly and taking a seat between Gemma and Niall.

  
Louis’ eyes didn't leave mine and all I could think about was the way he'd sighed when I'd asked him to remain a secret. I thought about how I was convinced that goodbye was going to be the last word either of us said to each other. Parts of me had hoped that he'd be here tonight, but most of me had been convinced that there was no way he'd come. Not after the way I'd treated him.

  
Everyone around me launched into conversation about the weather in Ireland that time of year, but I just watched as Louis typed out some kind of message on his phone. He kept looking up at me, his eyes smiling in a way I knew his face wanted to.

  
Then I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and locked eyes with him. He narrowed his eyes in a smug smirk. I wanted to laugh, but instead I looked to Gemma who was perfectly taken with the conversation she was having with Liam. I pulled out my phone and opened the message quickly.

  
**Sorry about Lottie. I told her to keep her mouth shut, but she was never any good at subtlety.**

  
I smiled at him and began my response. **Meet me in the kitchen.**

  
I saw a wicked grin light up his face when he read my message.

  
I stood up awkwardly, “why isn't anyone drinking? Niall, you're the worst host and worst Irishman I've ever known. I'm gonna get some beers.”

  
I made my way to the kitchen and heard Louis’ soft voice announce that he was going to help. I stood in front of the fridge with the door open, feeling the cool air wash over me. I felt like I was under a microscope. It was a horrible feeling, even if it was completely my own doing.

  
Louis’ body stood in the door way, I didn't have to turn to know he was there. My whole body sensed it and it made my hair stand on end.

  
I turned to face him and all I could do was grin, because it had been _hours_. Agonizing, bruising hours since I'd last seen him.

  
“Your sister seems nice,” I teased.

  
“So I might have mentioned you to her. Sue me.”

  
Louis words were all sass. I grinned at him. “You look nice,”

  
I had no idea what I was doing. I had no idea how to just tell him that even though I was a fucking moron, it hadn't changed anything. The way I felt about him… Whether I wanted to shout it from the rooftops or keep it just for us, it hadn't change in the hours we’d been apart.

  
His whole face lit up, like he was the sun. Maybe he was.

  
“Thank you,” he said.

  
I gestured for him to come closer to me. I took his hand in mine and just stared at our entwined fingers. I never knew what to do.

  
“Tell me the rules for tonight, Harold. I'm gonna blow it if I don't have instructions.”

  
I sensed there was hurt behind his words. And why wouldn't there be?

  
“Louis,” he saw the explanation on my tongue and he shook his head.

  
“It's fine, Harry. Whatever you want.”

  
“Would you just shut up and listen?” My tone was light and he gave me a grin that unleashed a mental tidal wave of sinful thoughts I wanted to preform with him.

  
“what I said, about not telling my sister? That's me, Louis, that's not you. I don't even want to tell Niall.” He shot me a suspicious look. “It's not what you think.”

  
“Really, because it sounds like you have realized that you're… Fucking below you. I'm just being honest. It seems to me like you've realized I'm not pretty and polished enough for you and you don't want to tell anyone.”

  
All of the light happiness in my chest that had been fluttering around since I'd lain eyes on him came to a halt. The whole fucking earth came to a halt. I was scum.

  
“I really need you to listen, Louis.” I felt a tear roll down my cheek and I just _had_ to change the emotion I saw on Louis face. “We are all a collage of the things we’ve been through. Maybe me more so than everyone else, but I just need you to understand me.” My voice shook because I knew what word was going to come next, I scooped his hand back into mine. “Ronnie and I…” I knew then at that second that Louis saw it, saw the way I had to work to arrange my mouth in a way capable of saying the word. “We were very public. My whole life was always on display, for Gemma, for my mom, for everyone and most of the time it felt like we didn't exist anywhere but in other people's sights. I felt like there wasn't an ‘us’, like we were just some cute thing for everyone to fawn over.”

  
He was on the verge of saying something, but I filled the gap, words spewing recklessly and severely out of character from my mouth.

  
“I don't know if that's what ruined it, but I don't want that again.” His eyes sparkled with so many more questions, but I just kept dumping things on him. “You don't see me the same way they do.” I said, pointing in the direction of our friends. “I love them all but Gemma thinks I'm her doll, Liam thinks I'm a reckless slut and Niall thinks I'm mentally unstable--but that's not how you see me. I don't want them to change that. I don't want my sister to whisper to you about all the pills I used to take and all the things she thinks might set me off.” I sighed, “no one helped you, Louis but you figured me out. I don't want that to change. I want you to be you and I want me to just be the person you let me be when no one else is looking.”

  
He stared at me for a moment, processing my words. Finally a smile crossed his face, and I saw pride glittering in his eyes. Pride. Louis was proud of me, of _us_ , and after I'd unloaded all my emotions about what everyone else saw in me, it was more than a little refreshing to see such an emotion in his gaze.

  
“Well, fuck.” He said, bemused. “I really wanted to be pissed at you, Harry, but my god you make that impossible.”

  
There were more words on the tip of his tongue (Louis always had an endless stream of words), but Niall cleared his throat from behind us. We both turned and met his happy blue eyes.

  
“Listen, I know you guys are fucking now, but I was promised beer.”

  
Louis tossed Niall a can, which he caught easily and cracked it open. He took a long sip and grinned. He pointed wildly back and forth from me to Louis, “keep up the good work, Tommo."

  
He left the room then and I turned to Louis, “I don't always make sense, and I never say things gracefully, but you make me better. I like who I am when you're the only one looking. It's me, but it's me for your eyes only.”

  
He pulled me in for a hug. I couldn't really think of a place where I'd feel more comfortable than in Louis’ arms.

  
“Oh, Harry, you're so romantic!” He teased, but I knew at least part of him believed it.

  
“Tommo, where's my beer?” I heard Liam yell from the next room.

  
Louis kissed my neck softly, “we should get back to our friends before you completely blow our cover.” He winked at me then and I smiled.

  
“Just so we are clear, Lewis, it's not a cover, it's an omission.”

  
He squeezed my bum and started to walk toward the living room. “whatever you say, Styles.”

...

After a couple of hours and about 8 beers later, I was curled up on Niall's bed, cackling loudly to his impressions of his brother and his wife. Niall loved nothing in the world more than his family, but boy could he drag them. The fact that someone with an Irish accent could somehow find a way to relentlessly mock Irish accents was a testament to how funny he truly was.

  
“Now, the real reason I asked you here today was to express to you what shit you are at being a friend.”

  
“Well, that got dark fast.” I commented.

  
“Harry, what in the Jesus is wrong with you?” He was shaking my shoulders now. “You had one of the worst panic attacks I've ever experienced with you, and then you fucking disappeared like the biggest fucking wanker I've ever met. You've got to realize there's people around who give a fuck about you. You can't just get in moods and disappear.”

  
“I know,” was all I said.

  
“And yet I spent days not knowing where you were.” He sighed in exasperation and then started again. “Look, Harry, I wanted to give you shit for not calling me, so that you know next time you need to keep me in the loop, but you know that's not my main concern here.”

  
I raised an eyebrow at him.

  
“Well, how big is it?”

  
I was confused, “how big is what?”

  
He rubbed his forehead, like his foolish question somehow made sense to everyone else and I was the mad one in this conversation. “His cock, you wanker, isn't that what you want to have girl talks about?”

  
I felt my face burn with a blush, “Christ Niall, you're tactless.”

  
He laughed loudly with his infectious laugh, forcing me to laugh along as he always did. “But you are fucking now, yeah?”

  
“Next question, please.”

  
“So, more than once, then? I'm gonna guess it's not a one night stand at this point, considering it's been days since I heard from you.”

  
This was a moment that I couldn't really control. I wanted to be quiet, to make Niall wonder and to protect Louis and I from his scrutiny, but he was also my best friend.

  
“Harry, I think I know my best friend. You wanted him all along, now I deserve details because no one shipped you two as hard as I did.”

  
“What does that even mean?”

  
Nial cackled foolishly, “it means I was rooting for yours and Louis’ relationship.”

  
I scoffed, “Louis is my friend, Niall.”

  
He rolled his eyes practically to the back of his head, “I know he's a lot more than a friend, because if friends fucked, I'd be getting a lot more blow jobs on our sleepovers.”

  
“Gross Niall!” I whined.

  
He grinned at me and ruffled my hair, “why must you lie to me, Harry?”

  
I grumbled under my breath, protesting Niall and his observation skills. “Anyway, we’re not just ‘fucking’ as you so gracefully put it. I think it's more than that.”

  
“You ‘think’?” He snapped loudly, “boy, that lad is fucking gone for you, you dumbass.”

  
“Yeah?” I asked, mostly knowing that he was right, but my insecurities weighed me down because, why? Why did I deserve Louis?

  
“You're fucking thick sometimes, you know that, Harry?”

  
“What makes you the expert, then?”

  
“My ability to have fucking eyeballs.”

  
He stared at me deadpan and all I could do was break into a fit of laughter.

  
“Don't laugh at me, ya cunt.” He said through his own chuckles. “I'm right though. And you're gone for him, but I suspect that you're going to be the last to know it.”

  
“Oh shut up, Niall.”

  
A huge grin lit up his face. “I'm not wrong, I never am. I can read you Harry, and you are Louis are going to have a very bright future together, no matter how hard you're going to try to fight him on it.”

  
Louis was standing in the door way then, staring at me. Niall looked at him and smiled, “I'll let you have a moment, but please bear in mind that this is my bedroom, you know, where I have to sleep. Don't soil the sheets, yeah? Use the shower or sommat."

  
He smacked Louis’ ass on his way out the door.

  
Louis grinned at me and I met him in the doorway, the eight beers I'd drank doing my thinking for me. I instantly fell into him, my mouth meeting his and my hands immidiately going for his belt. There was nothing sweeter or more vital than the taste of Louis. I'd just have to learn to accept that fact


	18. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter finally from Louis. Things look good at the moment.
> 
> Stick around for more about the dark and mysterious stranger.
> 
> I just love Louis Tomlinson. He's fun to write.

Louis

It was four in the morning and I was standing on the balcony with Liam and Lottie. I'd left Harry only moments ago and my skin still burned from his touch, every drag of my cigarette tasting a bit like him. My eyes felt heavy and I was perfectly drunk. Just the right amount. I didn't need any more or any less, and I quietly enjoyed listening to Lottie and Liam's voices. I ashed my cigarette over the balcony, feeling like the king of London. Like no matter what happened no one could touch me because Harry had basically told me everything I'd been dying to hear since the moment I'd met his jade eyes.

  
But with Harry, there was always a but. There was always a question, something pulling and something nagging at the back of me. Liam and Lottie eventually finished their smokes and returned inside, with the promise of more alcohol. I closed my eyes and felt the cool wind blow against my sweaty skin.

  
I was marked on every inch of my body with Harry. I smelled him everywhere. I felt his sweat mixed with mine. Felt his words tattooed to my skin.

  
_For my eyes only_.

  
Part of Harry was just for me.

  
Harry styles had reviewed his life and deemed me, Louis Tomlinson, worthy of a part of him.  
I felt sappy and whole and torn from the pages of a bad harlequin romance. Of course, I'd sensed it. I'd known it was there. Known I had to cultivate it and warm him to the idea, but parts of me had remained unsure. I'd known where I stood, but Harry was another matter entirely.

  
There was nothing else. Nothing but the perfection of Harry.

  
The perfection of us, and I was proper fucking drunk, but I needed to find him. I needed him to know. To know all the things I'd already told him. I needed his skin, his lips, his poetic bullshit. I needed it all.

  
I flicked my cigarette over the balcony (internally imagining the way Harry would roll his eyes and call me names and remind me he was an environmentalist thank-you-very-much) and reasoned that I'd find him. Just as I turned to enter Liam’s flat, another person joined me on the balcony. Well, fuck. I was probably too drunk for this.

  
“Gemma,” I said as brightly as I could manage without sounding fake (or guilty) as fuck. “I was just heading back in.”

  
Her eyes said more than her lips did and I sensed I was about to fuck everything up and I begged the universe for Harry to appear in the doorway.

  
“Really? I was hoping I could bum a smoke and maybe you'd keep me company?” She batted her eyelashes and she really was the sweetest person in the world, wasn't she?

  
I reached into my pocked and handed her a smoke, reaching out to light it for her. I stuffed one between my own lips and bit the bullet. I sat down next to her and she smiled softly as me.

  
“Your sister is proper sweet, like a little Barbie doll.” She cooed.

  
I smiled, thanking the fucking heavens that she wanted to talk about _my_ sibling and not her’s.

  
“She's a doll,” I agreed between drags. The beer made my brain feel foggy and I was definitely in a right state for walking across the landmines I presumed would surround Gemma. “I was scared when she wanted to move to London, she's so young, but I must say its been nice to have her close.”

  
“And where is home for you and Lottie?”

  
“Donny,” I said quickly.

  
She smiled and nodded, “nice place. I taught there for a semester.” she commented.

  
“A bit bigger than Holmes chapel.” I agreed. Then I realized that my mouth was fucking massive enough to stuff both my goddamn feet.

  
“So you _have_ spoken to Harry,” she mused, blowing smoke that swirled around her like a cloud, something frightening burning in her eyes. And to think I'd originally thought this woman was perfectly harmless. She was a snake, about to constrict me until truth oozed out of my eyeballs.

  
I nodded slowly, hoping to hell that she wouldn't say anything further. “You mentioned you taught? What grade?”

  
She looked amused and her eyes left my face. She took a deep drag of her cigarette and I was certain that she was laughing to herself. What the fuck was happening? How drunk was I? Harry had asked one thing of me and I was failing because any fucking person with eyeballs could see what I thought. I was not the secret locked journal that Harry was. No I was practically a fucking newspaper with headlines strewn across my forehead. I couldn't be subtle.

  
Why had I even come to this party? Harry was going to hate me because anyone with half a brain could see I was hopelessly in love with him.

  
“High school,” she said, that amused look never leaving her eyes. “History.”

  
We were both quiet then, the sun threatening to make an appearance and ruin a very fucking brilliant night. I watched as she continued to smoke quietly, the smoke billowing around both of us and still I prayed that _anyone_ would join us. I didn't know what to fucking say to her. I didn't know if being quiet like this was more incriminating than blabbing my full life story. I didn't have a clue.

  
Finally, after smoking as hard and fast as I had ever done, I took the last drag of my cigarette, butting it out in the can between us. I could finally leave without being rude. Just as I was about to stand, her words cut into the silence.

  
“My brother thinks he's an excellent liar.”

  
I wanted to run so far away, because what the fuck? What was she even insinuating? What kind of sister said shit like that? Was she trying to defame Harry's character? because yeah, he had a whole fuck ton of flaws, ones that I was more than willing to talley and tell him, but she was his sister and I, to be fair, was a perfect fucking stranger. I was not the person to dump horrible tales of Harry on. I didn't want to hear it to be fucking honest. And I was just about drunk enough to be fully honest to _her._

  
“How sweet of you to say,” there was ice in my words, and like everything else about me, they were transparent and honest. They were words that held the protectiveness I felt for Harry.

  
She laughed. Totally fucking laughed after dragging her brother’s name through the dirt and I wanted to scream, and the only thing that stopped me was the memory of the fondness in Harry's voice when he'd spoken of Gemma. Like she was a saint.

  
I pressed my beer bottle to my lips and drank back the vile remnants from the bottom that were piss warm and tasted like shit. But I needed something to stop the avalanche of almost-words that threatened the back of my throat.

  
“How long have you been shagging my brother?” Her voice was light and she wasn't making an accusation anymore, just stating a fact like it was no big fucking deal.

  
I choked a bit on my beer and sat a bit higher in my chair.

  
“I beg your pardon?” I snapped it, and I kicked myself because I was being a twat, but I just came about it so naturally.

  
She laughed lightly like she was the patron saint of drunk conversation and knew exactly what she was talking about. “Oh, come on, Louis. Do you take me for an idiot?”

  
_Phew_ , a question about her. “’Course not.”

  
“Then indulge me.”

  
“Gemma Styles,” I said, staring off the balcony, too afraid to meet her eyes, “you're a real piece of work, you know that?”

  
I might have been brutally honest by nature, but I could also deflect like it was my life's ambition. She laughed then, and I felt myself laughing to. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye and she produced a joint out of nowhere.

  
“Got a light?” She asked, already reaching her hand out to take the lighter she knew I had. I dropped it in her palm and watched as she lit the tiny joint and inhaled a third of it. This woman was something else. She tossed my lighter back onto my lap and coughed violently.

“Here,” she gasped through her coughs, and urged me to take the joint. I obliged and took a long breath in, before I, too, erupted in coughs of smoke. I handed it back to her and waited in anticipation for her next words, honestly wondering what else this woman might be capable of.

  
“I love Harry more than anyone else in this world.” She said matter-of-factly.

  
I nodded, my lungs burning from the pot, “and why wouldn't you?” I rasped.

  
She inhaled another large amount of the joint and spoke as she released the smoke, “I think you're good shit, Louis. I don't think I've ever seen my brother act like such a human being. The sneaking around, whispering, meeting in the kitchen, it's all pretty transparent, but cute nonetheless.”

  
I laughed at that, because what the hell else could I do? I was busted. Harry was busted and to be perfectly honest, I didn't mind even a little.

  
“I don't presume to know what Harry has and hasn't told you, but he's had a rough go of things. Most of it happened when he was a kid. He's strong now, but he isn't always. I worry about him, but I'm glad he finally has someone.”

  
“What makes you think I'm his someone, anyway?”

  
She smiled at me, her face bright and I could see in that look exactly all the reasons Harry loved her. She was good. She was pure. She only wanted the best for her poor damaged baby brother. How could I have thought she was a snake?

  
“Besides the obvious?”

  
“What's the obvious?”

  
She laughed again, “he can't even talk to you if he knows someone else I looking. Your sister blew it, the sneaking around and your eyes tell a lot, Louis.”

  
“And besides the obvious?” I said, still cheeky as ever.

  
“Why wouldn't it be you? You're exactly what I saw for him. You won't take his shit. He needs that.”

  
“Well it seems you think you have me all figured out.”

  
“Then don't make it so obvious.” She winked at me and I heard the patio door slide open.  
Gemma and I both turned to see Harry hovering behind us.

  
She smiled brightly at him, “I was just chatting to Louis and we were having a little smoke.” She offered the joint to Harry and he took it quickly, stress lines spreading across his forehead.

  
“what were you talking about?” He gasped out while holding the pot in his lungs.

  
I felt my heart in my throat. She was going to blow it. After all the work I'd done, after all the progress Harry and I had made, his sister was about to annihilate all of it. After she'd congratulated me. I felt my stomach fall to the floor.

  
“Doncaster. Charlotte. Football.” She yawned exaggeratedly, “you, know. Small talk.”

  
Harry's eyes were distressed and I thanked fuck that it was still too dark to see the true level of stress behind the expression. I shrugged, getting up from my seat.

  
“Gemma should have been an archeologist,” I sang, walking passed Harry to the door. I wanted more than anything to brush against his shoulder, but drunk as I was, I knew it was a bad idea under gemma's watchful eye. “She likes history and she's fantastic at digging.”

  
I heard her snort and a loud whooping laugh came from her as I closed the balcony door, sealing out the Styles’ and their stressful flavour of conversation.

  
Immediately I heard Niall. I signed in relief. Someone I could be myself with.

  
“Tommo!” He roared, pulling me down on the couch next to him.

  
The weed had begun to settle in a fog around my brain and a smile that felt impossible to fight spread across my face. It felt nice to sit down because of the dizziness that swirled around in my head. Being high was nice, in a calming sort of way. My life had been an endless bucket of stress as of late and it was a welcomed departure.

  
“Nialler,” I slurred, a fit of laughter falling from my lips.

  
His laugh bellowed through the room, only serving to make me laugh harder (why did Niall _do_ that to everyone?).

  
“Well my friend, I'm just pissed enough to congratulate you on whatever in the fuck it is you did to reel in my best friend. He's a piece of work, innit?”

  
I shook my head, “no, it's not like that.”

  
And maybe Harry was right. Maybe everyone else saw everything wrong. Maybe no one but he and I could understand what had changed.

  
The thought intrigued me. To have a secret that existed between only Harry and I. To have something between us that he couldn't find anywhere else thrilled me. To be so vital a part of him was something I didn't expect, understand or work for, but my god did it feel good. Harry was beautiful, funny and smart and brave and so fucking charming, and I knew he existed out there in the world every single day without me seeing, but we had _this_. We had us. And it was only _us_ who understood it.

  
But it was also tragic, because the things Harry said to me, the things he made me feel should have been scattered across classroom whiteboards and pages of poetry anthologies and fucking screamed from rooftops, because everyone should understand just how fucking perfectly imperfect Harry Styles was.

  
Lottie looked at me from the couch across from us. “What's it like, then Lou Bear,” she mocked the nickname my mom had given me as a kid (boo bear). I knew she was utterly pissed, her eyes closed and her head leaned against the back of the couch in tell-tale ‘I've got the spins’ position.

  
I tossed a cushion at her and she squealed, opening her eyes long enough to glare at me.

  
“It's perfect and magical and sunshine and skipping down the fucking yellow brick road, the fuck do you cunts think?”

  
They both laughed in unison, because though my words were a clear and obvious over-the-top Louis Tomlinson-esque exaggeration, we all knew the truth behind them.

  
Because, yeah, there was magic and sunshine and I probably would happily skip anywhere with Harry next to me, all the way to fucking emerald city (which probably existed within harry’s irises). I was fucking gone. Disgusting. My heart mangled and full of the poetry that lived between Harry's words and kisses.

  
“Where's Payno?” I mumbled, closing my eyes and leaning against the back of the couch. My head spun in the most relaxing and pleasurable way. My whole body felt contented. My whole life felt perfect. Nothing could touch me or Harry. I felt invincible.

  
“Still in the hall way with the dark and mysterious stranger I'd presume,” Niall sang happily.

  
“I wasn't aware of any mysterious strangers,” I mused, sliding my fingers back and forth against the microfibre couch. Did they always feel so good under my fingers or was it just the pot?

  
“That's ‘cause you and Harry were too busy fucking to know it happened.”

  
I grinned at Niall, “I stand by my choice,” I sang brightly, imagining my words fluttering through the air and mingling with Niall’s. “Do tell, though.”

  
He elbowed me, and laughed a bit. “There's a dark and mysterious stranger. He lives on the third floor and he helped Liam carry up ice earlier and I'm pretty sure the rest is history.”

  
I couldn't keep my eyes open. I felt sleep pulling at my lids. I wanted to press for more details, but my brain was done. I was exhausted and I drifted off right there, next to Niall and across from Lottie. Right in the middle of one of the most fun nights I'd ever experienced. Right in the middle of a conversation that should have satisfied my nosiness.

...

“Louis,”

  
The voice was soft and velvety. Just a small whisper with the light of dawn. My mouth was dry, my lids heavy.

  
But the voice belonged to Harry, and even if there was a slight delay in recognizing that, I still brightened to the realization.

  
“Morning sunshine,” I mumbled, turning to him.

  
He was crouched behind the couch, his chin resting beside my head.

  
“It's not really morning, I haven't even tried to sleep.” He reasoned.

  
“Good evening, Harry.” I amended.

  
He exhaled warm breath that swirled in my ear. I reached back and rested my palm against his cheek. He smiled at that, closing his eyes and leaning into it. I saw the storm in his eyes, and I could tell that the rest of the world was brining him down. I could see the realities he was carrying around on his shoulders and it was criminal. The rest of the world was preposterous. Dealing with his sister, with the stress of his past was preposterous. I needed to make him forget. Forget and remember.

  
Remember the place we'd made just for us.

  
“On a scale of 1-10, how good are your PI skills?”

  
He looked at me suspiciously.

  
“1-10,” I repeated, my thumb tracing his bottom lip. The lip that lured me on over and over and made me question my sanity on the regular.

  
“4,” he said, a smile finally breaking across his face and his dimple making an appearance.

  
“Ghastly,” I responded, “thankfully I'm about a 10.5.” I heard his low chuckle and felt my heart skip at least six beats. “And we have an investigation to begin.”

  
“Do we?”

  
“Yeah, absolutely.” He was standing now, his hands finding my shoulders and slowly massaging the million knots within. “Seems our friend Liam has met a mysterious stranger and I won't be able to sleep tonight until I know who he his.”

  
Harry was laughing again, filling the whole bloody flat with music. “Louis, you were just fast asleep.”

  
“Let's not dwell on technicalities, yeah? Just say you'll come satisfy my burning curiosity.”  
He looked back at the balcony door with some trepidation, but still he gave me a nod. “Of course, you can't be a PI without a sidekick.”

  
I stood up then, taking his hand. His eyes surveyed the room, but all he saw was Lottie sleeping and endless beer cans tossed about wildly. Niall was snoring in his room and Gemma appeared to be asleep on the balcony.

  
“Don't be foolish, Harold, you're no sidekick,” his eyes sparkled, and it was real. He really, really did care about me. “you're a co-star,”

 


	19. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Ziam had to happen. That's just how it is.
> 
> This is a short one, but finally we get to see where Louis is coming from.

_**Louis** _

Harry stood next to me on the elevator and laughed wildly because it was the 15th floor we'd visited so far, looking for the dark and mysterious stranger who had apparently kidnapped my friend. Harry slung his arms around my body and whispered all sorts of delightful things in my ear.

He kissed my neck softly, "Louis?" He asked quietly.

  
"Harold,"

  
"I'm sorry about Gemma,"

  
"I quite like her actually."

  
I felt his body relax against me, "figures," he announced, "you're a lot like her."

  
"Are you calling me cheeky and mosey?" I joked, cocking an eyebrow in his direction.

  
"So far we've checked 15 floors looking for your friend for the sinsular fact that you don't know who he's with. Nosey? You? Nah. I wouldn't say."

  
I squeezed the dimple that was positively gleaming under the bright elevator lights, "I am what I am, Harold. I've accepted that about myself."

  
He grinned and kissed me softly, "I like what you are."

  
"Me too," I laughed against his lips.

 

Finally the elevator stopped on the third floor. Instantly I heard the rumblings of a party, still drumming through the hall despite it being well after 5 in the morning.

  
"Bingo," said Harry.

  
I reached out and fed my fingers through his, "well, well, look who's the confident PI now."

  
Harry began leading me toward the noise and I looked up at him, laughter on my lips. He, too, was perfectly drunk and he didn't have a sweet clue what he was doing.

  
"Just gonna waltz in, are you Styles?"

  
He paused and I rolled my eyes at him. "Follow me," I said, tugging his hand and leading him to the stairwell. "I can promise you they've chosen something more private."

  
We opened the door to the stairwell and I immediately heard Liam's laughter. Harry grinned brightly at me.

  
“I must hand it to you, you nosey shit, you really do know your stuff.”

  
I dragged him up the first flight of stairs and we stopped immediately at the midway point when we saw Liam and the mystery man who was curled up on his lap. Liam stroked his hair softly and the boy’s eyes glittered as he looked up at Liam. They were engaged in a conversation about spray paint and an even louder conversation was happening between their eyes. They gawked at each other like they were the first and last thing each of them had ever seen. Liam’s eyes shot to mine and he smiled slowly and lazily, looking down at the boy curled on his lap.

  
“Hi Payno,” I said brightly.

  
“Tommo,” he offered, a grin set on his lips.

  
“Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?”

  
Harry was drunk and he hung off of my body and I had just a taste of what he really thought. What he would really be like if he didn't give so many shits about the rest of the world. His fingers were warm and sweaty against mine and I was positive he wasn't even paying slight attention to Liam and the mystery man, which was strange, but also distracting and fucking perfect.

  
The lad that was laying on Liam's lap sat up and waved to me. He looked like he'd been plucked directly off a runway at fashion week and dropped into the gloomy stairwell. His Carmel skin positively glowed next to Liam. His dark eyes were shrouded in black lashes. In a totally objective way (because, really the boy had nothing on Harry) he might have been on of the most beautiful people I'd ever seen.

  
“Zayn,” said Liam, staring over at him like he was the eighth, ninth and tenth wonders of the world.

  
“I'm Louis,” I said, feeling Harry's lips against my ear and all I could think was,what the fuck, what was this public display of affection? And how could I stop time and make sure that Harry was like this forever? “And this is my…” The words caught in my throat because really, was Harry really my anything? When all the whiskey and cokes left his system and the sun rose, he'd be normal again. He'd be whatever he was normally, and I felt a pang shoot straight through my chest. “Harry,”

  
“Your Harry,” Zayn mused. “Pleased to meet you both,”

  
God it burned. It stung. It fucking tore at me to hear because he wasn't _my_ Harry. He was Niall's Harry. Gemma's baby. He belonged to the world and he'd probably never really want to belong to me and I felt sick. It had been years since I'd felt so fucking inferior.

  
“What brings you two to a stairwell at 5 am, anyway?” I pressed on, trying to ignore the feeling of lips against my hair. _Harry's_ lips against my ear. Impossible.

  
“I could ask you the same,” noted Liam, his eyes grinning back at me.

  
“Li, I'd never pretend to be anyone other than my's elf. I heard talk of a mysterious stranger and I was damn well going to find out who it was, just to make sure you weren't too drunk to make a reasonable choice.” Liam laughed at that and his face looked like a tomato, “and I can see that alcohol has no bearing on your impeccable judgement, so have a nice night, lads.”

  
I wrapped my arm around Harry's waste waist and lead him out of the stairwell.

...

We were sitting on the grass in some park in the middle of the city. The sun was rising and I was stretched out on the grass, feeling the dew against my skin, Harry stretched out beside me. He traced the palm of my hand softly and we stared up at the sky. The Stars had retreaded. The sun was now finally fully present and threatened to close the night. I resented that I'd have to say goodbye to such a perfect evening. 

  
“Louis?” Harry's voice was soft and curious.

  
“Harry?”

  
He was quiet a moment, and I could feel him contemplating his next set of words. “Have you always been like this?”

  
“Like what?” I asked softly. Harry so rarely asked things of me that I didn't expect where he was going to steer things.

  
“So… Sure. So content. So… Happy with who you are?”

  
I turned onto my side and looked at him. “What are you asking me, Harry?” He was so cryptic. I'd gladly answer any question he had, but he was never specific.

  
“What made you like yourself?” His focus was on the sky, his forehead creased like he'd just asked me to explain Pi to him.

  
“Nothing specifically.” I said softly, still watching the stress lines on his forehead.

  
“I mean…” He trailed off, his brain lost in thoughts his mouth was never able to catch up with. Harry's ability to vocalize was so restricted compared to the capacity of his brain.

  
“You mean you want me to have a better answer and tell you exactly how it happened? How I looked in the mirror, saw the short little bastard with no filter, too much sass and a gigantic mouth and said ‘I quite like this fucker’?”

  
He smiled then, “not that easy, is it?”

  
I exhaled, “not that easy, no. ‘Bout as easy as climbing Everest, I reckon.”

  
He was quiet a minute, staring at the newly bright sky so hard he might have given himself an aneurism.

  
“but it did happen, you know? And it took a lot. I'm not an easy person to love.” I offered.

  
Harry bit his lip, staring everywhere but me.

  
“I fucked up a lot,” I offered, “but that's pretty standard. I don't think it should be so hard for you, though. People don't have a problem loving you, Harry and you shouldn't either.”

  
“You're wrong, Louis, you know.”

  
“Of course I'm not. I'm never wrong. You're the best person I've ever known, Harold.”

  
He shook his head, “about you,” he muttered.

  
My heart was pounding in my chest. “you weren't there for the dark ages,” my voice cracked at my attempted joke and I hated that I was so transparent.

  
“I wish I was,” he spoke directly to the sky, his hands folded together on his stomach. He was deep in some pattern of thoughts that I was fucking horrible at figuring out. There were one too many algorithms needed to follow Harry's wondering mind.

  
“Well, better yet, Harry, you're here for the light. We can be light together.”

  
Moments passed and my words were met with complete silence and I wondered where Harry's thoughts were. I wished I was a mind reader and a hypnotist and someone who possessed a bulldozer capable of tearing down the lies about himself Harry had erected in his own mind.

  
I wanted him like this always. Quiet. Hopeful. Thoughtful and _open_.

  
“I don't think I'd be much good at being light.”

  
“Rubbish,” I said instantly, “my whole fucking world is dark when you're not there. When you're not touching me. You make excellent light.”

  
He laughed then, and it was genuine. “Always so dramatic,” he commented.

  
“Says the boy who ran away when he caught himself caring.”

  
“It's dangerous,” he argued.

  
“But everything worth doing is dangerous, that's what makes life so fun.”

  
He rolled over then, and even though he never said it, I knew the moment my words struck home with him. He burrowed his head in the side of my neck and wound his legs between mine. He was piss-loaded drunk and I was, too, but nothing could touch us. Not really. Not when we entered that place that existed for us.

  
“I'd like to hear about it, if you'd tell me.” He spoke quietly, lips always moving so distracting my against my skin.

  
“The dark ages?” I asked.

  
“Mmm,” he confirmed.

  
I kissed the top of his forehead, “ask and ye shall receive,"

  
He jumped in, then. “I feel selfish, Louis.” He said, his voice was quiet, reserved and so ducking desperate for validation.

  
“And why would you feel something so utterly foolish?”

  
“My darkness is so consuming that it's suffocating you. I don't even ask what you've been through, that's selfish Louis,”

  
“It's okay if you need me more right now,” I said and I meant it. “I may need you to kiss my ass soon too. I can't always be flawless.”

  
He considered that for a moment. “I like that.” He said finally.

  
“The prospect of me losing my shit?” I teased.

  
“Not that,” he corrected, “the prospect of you letting me _see_ you lose your shit.”

  
“You really are one of a kind, Harry.”

  
He kissed my neck softly, “now tell me,” I sighed as he continued to lay soft kisses all along my neck and jaw. “Tell me why it was bad and what made it bad.”

  
I was in a strange place now. The world had once been shrouded in darkness, and now I stood in the light always. I remembered my past, but I never lived it, not anymore. I could touch it any time I wanted, but it didn't just feel like a past, it felt like someone else's life. It barely affected me aside from the perspective it had given me. I could talk about it objectively, like I was recalling things that happened to anyone but myself.

  
But I could do it, would do it, for Harry. Even though the feelings had left, even though I was different now, I'd pull up all of the bad things so that Harry could see my imperfections and maybe learn to love his own.

  
“Well for starters, my real dad left when I was just a couple of months old,” I started, “and growing up, I always felt that because, like, what kind of father does that and then never even calls do see how I was doing? Like, makes you wonder what about you he didn't like.”

  
Harry started at me, no words on his tongue, he was just listening and paying close attention to every word I was saying.

  
“I guess that's what really made the bad things settle in. Self esteem and all that. I always felt so average, so inferior. Like I was forgettable and the disposable fuck up son.” I sighed then, because I wasn't a saint. I still felt these things. They were all still real.

  
“Anyway, mum made sure it didn't last long. I had a new dad soon. I love my mum to pieces, but I really don't think she's very good at being alone. Most of the time I think she just surrounds herself so she doesn't feel so empty.” I pondered the thought for a moment, “so she filled up the house. Within a couple of years I had four sisters and a new last name, but I kind of felt like a second thought to all of it. I felt like I never really fit into my family. I was just the practice kid she had to bring along into her new life or something, and I hated it.”

  
Harry stroked my face softly, listening to every word I said. I saw sadness in his eyes, like he understood me or something. Like the bogus feelings I had about my upbringing made sense. Like they weren't foolish and selfish and misplaced as I'd always thought. Maybe I had no right to feel the things I felt, but I sensed that Harry believed I did, and that made everything a bit better.

  
“So basically, I was born a babysitter and I spent most of my life watching my sisters, and I loved them, but I never really felt like a kid, like my friends did. I always had to be so responsible and so mature and I hated it. I always hated it. So I worked my ass off in school and got a scholarship for uni and I ran away. I literally ran from my family, left my sisters and never looked back. I hate that I did that.”

  
Harry's fingers trailed down my arms, taking notes of every word I said. “It shouldn't have been your job to take care of them, you know.”

  
I shrugged, because of the many things I'd done, I maybe resented that the least. My sisters were all wonderful and perfect. They loved me, even in the times I deserved it the least.

  
“My mum’s a good person, you know?” I felt like I'd dragged her through the dirt, and I needed Harry to know that she wasn't the demon I was paining a picture of. “Everyone has their problems, and mum just doesn't want to be alone. That's fine. She always took care of me, always made sure I had what I needed to take care of the girls. It was fine.”

  
“What happened when you went to university?” He prompted.

  
Again I shrugged, “nothing, really. I excelled. I took all these music classes, got an internship at the studio I'm with now and it was all pretty fantastic at first.”

  
Harry was riveted, “but then?”

  
“Then I got in with the rockstars. I guess I'd always just felt like a safe bet. Like people picked me because I was stable and good at taking care of things, not because I was special, because, after all, I _was_ just the gay practice son, the thing people used to get on to the bigger and better things. I felt so… Small. But it wasn't like that anymore in the studio. Then I was nineteen, a real adult. I didn't feel sub-par because _I'd_ gotten the job. _I_ hung out with rockstars. _I_ wrote songs people liked. I finally felt like someone, so naturally I let go.”

  
“Let go of what?”

  
“Control,” I said simply.

  
My past was nothing like Harry's. Nothing like the pain he'd lived through. I didn't have one traumatic event that defined me, just a series of stupid decisions that I didn't have anyone to blame but myself for.

  
“I always had to have it together at home, in university. I was everyone's rock and I had all these responsibilities piled on me when I was just a kid and I never got to just participate, so that's what I did—I cut loose and chased after all the things I never got as a kid. All the validation that I was special and not just a backbone for everyone else.”

  
I sighed then, because there was still a level of shame to the stupidity of my past, even if it was completely separate from the person I was now.

  
“I did a lot of drugs, Harry, and it's not pretty or graceful it was just reckless and stupid and I shouldn't have done it. I should have lost everything, but things just kept getting better. They don't tell you that when they try to scare you off of drugs. They don't tell you how easy everything comes. I just… I didn't feel worthless anymore. I won awards, met everyone I admired. I had an awesome job, money, my name all over the records I helped make. I didn't feel out of control. I felt better. I felt irresponsible and stupid and just fucking happy. I never wanted everything that came along with maturity. I never asked for it, and when I was eyeball deep in Coke or dropping god fucking knows what kind of pills, I just felt like a rockstar. I felt normal. I didn't hate myself. I didn't have reservations. I was just alive.”

  
Harry's eyes were wide as he took in all the information I gave to him.

  
“And then bam! Lottie was 17 and she wanted to go to UCL. She needed me to be Louis again, so I stopped. I knew all along it was stupid and selfish, and as soon as I had a reason, had someone who needed me, I stopped.”

  
“That's kind of amazing, though, you know? Most people can't stop like that.”

  
Why did Harry made me feel so fucking good?

  
“But kind of dumb in the first place, stupid that I was such a child. Stupid that I loved it, because I really fucking loved it Harry. I loved being out of control. I preferred it to everything else. Now I have nothing comparable, but the desire is there. I always don't want to be perfect.”

  
He wound his fingers through mine, “let's not be perfect together,” He announced. “Let's be children. Let's play in sandboxes and run away from our responsibilities.”

  
The sentiment was perfect.

  
Harry's eyes glittered with all those things I missed. All the recklessness that was no longer a part of my life lived behind his gaze, because he meant it. He really meant it and after so long of grasping for control of his life, Harry was now next to a person who understood how hard it was to maintain. How hard it was to have so much control all of the time.

  
I saw the desire in his eyes, and I knew we'd be fine. Harry needed to let go as much as I did, and if we let go together, God, how amazing would that be?

  
I squeezed his hand in mine, still drunk enough to say the things I knew sober Harry would be horrified of.

  
"You're everything I ever wanted, you know that right?"

  
His eyes became heavy and serious and the silence stretched on for seconds, agonizing seconds and I saw the need to flee first flicker in his eyes, then the fear registered, the guilt, the detachment he wanted to cling to, until finally he spoke.

  
"But you don't know everything,"

  
"But I don't need to," I countered. "You're already perfect to me."

  
Again he was silent, and again I panicked. I'd said the wrong thing. I'd pushed him away I was going to send him running because I was fucking crazy about the boy and he couldn't handle it. It wasn't fair.

  
"Look, Harry, you don't have to say it back, yeah? I just... I'm not phoney, I'm not going to just say the things you want to hear. I'm going to say _all_ the things, and I'm always going to be like that. It's who I am. I can't pretend I don't care about you because you're scared. I want you to know it all, so when you decide you feel the same, you can just tell me because you'll never have to wonder how I feel."

  
He stared at me for a moment, "but why?"

  
I shrugged, "because it's how I feel. Why wouldn't I say it?"

  
"But don't you want to hear it back?" He asked incredulously.

  
"Don't have to."

  
His eyes begged the question he didn't ask.

  
"Because I can see it," I answered his silent 'why'.

  
And then a large sob escaped his perfect mouth and he collapsed onto me. His breathing was shallow and frantic. His nails dug into my shoulder and his face was buried in my neck, I sat up and tried to pull his face back so I could look at him. He refused and held his face against my shirt, soaking it with tears. I didn't understand. I didn't know what I'd said that had brough him here.

  
“Harry, talk to me,” I spoke into his hair, kissing it softly and keeping my arms safely wrapped around him.

  
“I don't know how to do it,” he mumbled, making absolutely zero sense. I wondered silently how many people he'd let see him like this. It felt raw and natural and like a real side of him that had never existed for the rest of the world.

  
“Harry, everything is okay, we’re okay, yeah?” I filled the gap with words as I always did. “You're bloody perfect, your sister is a professional spy who I think I might adore. My little sister thinks you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. You and I are basically professional snoops by this point because we found the mystery man! Harry, everything is perfect, you know that, right? I don't need anything from you. I don't want you to think that I need more. I don't need you to vomit words into every silence I give you. You're not me. I don't want you to be. I just want exactly what you've given me, nothing more nothing less.” I sighed kissing the top of his head again as the death grip he had my jumper in loosened. “There isn't a road map for this kind of thing, Harold. We’re just winging it and I kind of think that's the best part.”

  
He was quiet again, now trying to catch his breath and say something, even though I told him it was unnecessary. Finally, after stifling his tears he spoke to my chest, as he always did when he needed to say something heavy. When he couldn't handle looking into my obvious and honest eyes.

  
“I don't know how to do it,” he repeated. “I don't know how to be with you and not forget him.”

  
“Harry,” I let his name ring in the air while I gathered my thoughts.

  
I couldn't imagine the war that was waging in his head. He'd basically just told me he _wanted_ to be with me, and I tried to stifle the excitement in me for that fact. To me it might have been the brightest and happiest event, but for Harry it held trepidation. I didn't take it personally because it wasn't personal. It was Harry dealing with the things he'd dealt with long before I'd shown up. Just knowing that I affected him in any way gave me all the validation I needed.

  
“You don't have to pick,” I said slowly. “Everything we have, Harry, it's just for us, yeah? It doesn't change the past. Spending time with me and whatever else you want to happen with that, it doesn't change anything. You loved him—that will always be a part of you. I can't touch that. I wouldn't want to.”

  
“Why do you always make so much sense?”

  
“Because, if ever a person needed a voice of reason, it's you. You're a brat and you haven't even got a clue what you're fighting for or against the majority of the time. You can trust that I'll let you know if it's even worth it. That's who I am.”

  
“Because you like to be a twat,” he sniffed, a smile crossing his face.

  
“Nah, I'm just honest. You're too used to everyone kissing your ass. They don't see what I see. You don't need to be babied. You need a reality check.

He met my eyes then, a smile on his face that was impossibly large. "Can we go home now? I'm tired." He punctuated his statement with a yawn.

"Home?" I asked, again raising an eyebrow.

"to your bed," he clarified, not catching on to what he'd said. 

_Home._

_To your bed._

I smiled at him and took his hand, "home," I confirmed, helping him to his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> always too much dialogue. Apologies.


	20. Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter I was inspired by Shirtsleeves by Ed Sheeran for the dream portion.
> 
> Second part of the chapter is A.M. by 1D

_**Harry** _

 

_I was late. Late again. It was the third day in a row. I rushed out of the bedroom and waved to Ronnie who was sitting at the kitchen table. He smiled at me from behind his newspaper, age crinkling the corners of his eyes, almost permanently now, but especially when he smiled._

_  
I flew out the front door and hopped into my red civic, peeling out of the driveway like a mad-man. I was always so late these days. I was losing my will to work. It had been almost 15 years of working at the same law firm. It was never what I_ wanted _to do with my life. I never wanted to be legal aid, but reality was that photography would have never paid the bills, no matter how happy it made me. Ronnie and I had always had plans. He valued stability. That meant we sacrificed pipe dreams to be real adults. There was no shame in that._

 _  
I jumped out of the car quickly and burst through the door of the coffee shop, saying a silent prayer and hoping that there wasn't a line. To my happy surprise, there was only one person in front of me, and a new guy working at the counter. I'd been coming here daily for over a decade, but I knew this was the first time I'd seen him because he had eyes I would_ remember _. They glowed blue, even from the distance I was. I felt something flutter inside of my chest and suddenly I didn't feel so rushed. I felt sluggish and slow and my cheeks were warm and they felt flushed as I approached the counter._

_  
"What can I get for you, Mr. Curls," the man said brightly._

_  
Again, something twitched in my chest. "You're new."_

_  
He cocked an eyebrow at me, a slow smile spreading across his face._

_  
"I'm a fantastic barista, the best really, but I haven't got a clue how to make ‘you're new'.”_

_  
I sputtered a laugh, and his eyes lit up. I felt like a 12 year old._

_  
“I mean i haven't seen you before. I come here every day,” I was embarrassing myself, saying dumb things just to have_ something _to say to him._

_  
He reached his hand across the counter, “Louis,” he said, indicating for me to shake his hand. “I figure you may as well know who I am, since we'll be seeing each other every day,” he punctuated his words with a wink._

_  
I felt my insides pool._

_  
I took his hand, which was soft and so, so warm and shook it slowly. Something happened in my head. A large click. Like everything I'd ever known, now finally made sense, like a ‘bing!’. My whole body was alive with the electricity. He was now gripping my hand with both of his and my mind was screaming so loudly that I didn't have a clue what he was saying. My ears were ringing, my vision blurring everywhere but where I stared his hand. All I could see was him, his warm, perfectly toasty skin connected with mine. I hadn't realized I was freezing until that moment._

_  
As with most handshakes, he eventually released me, and the whole world moved in slow motion. I just kept hearing the click over and over as his blue eyes smiled brightly at me._

_  
Oh,_ God _._

_  
My body had shut down, because my organs were just a pool inside of my stomach. Forget butterflies, something much larger stirred inside of me, maybe several pterodactyls . I felt violently ill._

_  
Click. Click. Click._

_  
Still, the sound resonated In my head._

__  
“What's your name?” He asked, a sharpie now in one hand and a paper cup in the other.  
He was speaking. Speaking to me, but I couldn't form words, I couldn’t move. I couldn't hear a thing other than the incessant clicking.

_  
“w-what?” I sputtered._

_  
His face lit up with a confident grin, “your name, curls, for the cup that I'm going to be filling with the single greatest macchiato you've ever had the pleasure to drink.”_

_  
Click._

_  
“Harry,”_

_  
His smile quite literally lit up the entire city block._

_  
Click._

_  
“Harry,” he confirmed, making my name suddenly sound like the most beautiful word in the English language._

_  
Oh,_ fuck _._

_  
I was never going to make it through today alive._

_  
“That suits you," he said, moving toward the espresso machine. I watched as he crafted my drink. (had I even ordered anything?) (had I paid for anything?) He spun around several times to check on me, certainly assuming I had some sort of mental disorder or severe social anxiety._

_  
The clicking wouldn't stop._

_  
Finally, after staring at him for so long, he placed 2 paper cups on the counter. One said ‘Harry’ and the one next to it said ‘Louis’. My heart hammered against my ribcage violently as I watched him pull his apron over his head. He came out from behind the counter, and stood there, less than a meter away from me and every part of my skin burned._

_  
“I'm going to convince you to have your coffee with me,” he spoke and his voice was like velvet. “I would have said ‘try’ but I don't imagine you'd be all that hard to convince.”_

_  
Click._

_  
I shook my head furiously from left to right, because, no, even with the fact that I was extraordinarily late for work, I wouldn't ever have been able to say no to such perfectly blue eyes._

_  
“Shall we?” He said, gesturing toward the empty table by the window._

_  
Click._

_  
It all made sense. Everything I had done up until this point made sense. Everything had led me to this coffee shop. To this moment. Regret didn't exist, because this was how it was meant to happen._

_  
Louis sat beside me and brushed his hand along my thigh and finally the clicking stopped._

 

_…_

 

_“I love you,” I said, ending my daily phone call with Ronnie._

_  
“Don't forget about me,” he said, as he always did._

_  
“Never,” I vowed as was now our daily tradition._

_  
It had been 1 month since I had left for university. Ronnie was still in Holmes chapel, and leaving had been the hardest thing I'd ever done. Not because I thought that he'd forget me, or that I'd forget him, but our lives were changing. Everything was different. He was still working at the bakery where we'd once both worked, and I had been feeling a mixture of excitement that I'd been gifted with the opportunity to experience new things, but it was laced with a nagging feeling of missing the familiarity of both Ronnie and I coming home from work smelling like fresh baked bread and curling up to study._

_  
Originally I'd tried to convince him that we both go away to university in London, but he liked our small town, and favoured online studies. I wanted more. I wanted to be lost in a new place, and ideally that would have been with him, but he wouldn't budge on the fact, so I'd moved to Manchester. It wasn't far, but it felt like another planet._

_  
Of course, Ronnie had a plan. He liked plans. We would finish our schooling, get good jobs and buy a car and a house. He was the reasonable one. I, however, favoured the idea that maybe I could be an artist. I fell in love with fashion in the city, and I was taking photography as an elective. I enjoyed being young, having the idea of freedom at our fingertips, but he was much more tight-laced._

_  
Everything was going swimmingly in school. I'd made friends, got reasonable grades and joined the photography club. There was really only one major issue, and that was my mandatory statistics class. To say I ‘struggled’ in that class was a gross under-estimation. I was clueless and hopeless, and when my professor had become exasperated with my questions, he'd pressed a phone number in my hands. A tutor. Probably the best hope I had to at least land a passing grade. I'd texted him immediately, and we'd arranged to meet Wednesday in the library._

_  
Now it was Wednesday and I'd finished up my phone date with Ronnie and rushed to pack up my things and make it to the library on time._

_  
I walked cautiously through the front doors. 'Louis' was the tutor’s name, and I checked my texts to see where he was supposed to be sitting._

  
**Louis** _: sitting by the philosophy stacks!_

_  
I made my way to the back of the library, following the signs that told me where the philosophy section was. When I got there, there was only one guy sitting there, in one of the armchairs, a MacBook on his lap and a takeaway coffee cup on the table next to him. I had to do a double take, because weren't math nerds supposed to be unabashedly unattractive and socially incompetent? The boy stood and I felt something strange and foreign in my stomach as he placed the laptop onto the table in front of him. His chestnut hair was in disarray on the top of his head (something I'm sure he'd worked hard to achieve) and he had these_ eyes _. They were cobalt blue and captivating. I was kind of frozen in place as I took him in. I looked to the signs, because this was very obviously_ not _the philosophy section where I was supposed to meet the math geek who was going to get me a passing grade and not serve to further distract me from my studies with inhuman amounts of beauty. He rolled up the sleeves of his blue jumper and I was distracted by the tattoos I saw there._ Definitely _in the wrong place. His blue eyes met mine and I felt woozy._

_  
“Harry?” He asked brightly._

_  
Fuck._ Shit _._

_  
I nodded stupidly and I was certain at the moment that the room started to spin wildly. Gravity was shifting and he was pulling me into him, his eyes beckoning and looking so fucking perfect that a giant ball of ice formed inside of my stomach._

_  
His lips split open and an enormous and insanely bright smile took over his face. “I'm Louis,” he said, and to my shock and dismay (okay, maybe dismay was the wrong word here), instead of shaking my hand, he pulled me in for a hug. I was done for. I couldn't hear anything over the ringing in my ears. His body was warm and he smelled of light laundry detergent and vanilla. Finally, after he had pulled me in, my body reacted properly and I wrapped my arms around him, trying to function like a real human being._

_  
Click._

_  
Something loud happened in my head and a sense of relief washed over me. Like I had been waiting for something and I'd only just now been relieved of the anxiety. I didn't know what that something might have been, but I had it. I had that something now, despite the fact that I had no clue how it had happened and that maybe I had been waiting most of my life for it._

_  
He released me then, and I stared stupidly at him, my arms feeling empty and my body suddenly cold now that I was devoid of his warmth. The ball of ice in my gut hardened and grew._

_  
“I must say, I was not expecting_ you _,” he was saying words, and I'd never felt like someone else's words were so ducking vital to hear._

_  
“Me?” I asked stupidly, my voice felt dumb and out of place, like I had no right to be addressing someone with this level of perfection._

_  
“I've seen you around,” he noted offhandedly, like this wasn't life changing news to me. I was dazed. I figured my jaw was probably on the floor and I felt off balance._

_  
“Most first years… Don't seem so,” he gestured in the air, trying to pull the words toward him, “together.”_

_  
I heard the click again._

_  
“Together?” I croaked, barely posing it as a question._

_  
“So well dressed and adult.” He clarified._

_  
A compliment?_

_  
The ice melted inside of me and turned into a whirlpool in my stomach._

_  
Click._

_  
My face felt hot._

_  
“Blush looks good on you,” he mused, proud of his ability to make me uncomfortable._

_  
This of course, only served to make my entire body flush a few shades deeper._

_  
“You're a math tutor?” My voice was out of place._

_  
“What, didn't have me pegged as the mathelete sort?” He said casually._

_  
I shook my head side to side._

_  
“Well, lucky for you, I'm an impeccable tutor, so you will probably be a mathelete by the end of the semester, too.”_

_  
The room was still spinning. I could hear the blood in my ears. My face still burned with heat, but his eyes never left mine._

_  
“You have the most stunning eyes, Harry.”_

_  
Click._

_  
What was that sound? Something washed over me, like a wave of heat through my whole body. My heart slowed and I felt less like I wanted to leave, and more like I_ never _wanted to leave._

_  
“I—“ my word broke off stupidly, “thanks for tutoring me.”_

_  
“No need for thanks,” he brushed off my comment, “I have feeling you're the one doing_ me _the favour.”_

_  
Click._

_  
How did he DO that? How did he make me feel like the only person in the world? My cheeks burned again._

_  
“And, for the record, Harry, I mean that exactly how it sounds. I'm fully hitting on you, just so we’re clear.”_

_  
The room was hazy. My thoughts were indecipherable. I just stared at him and all I could focus on was the clicking. Over and over, every time he spoke it clicked._

_  
Why did I feel like a blind person who was finally given the gift of sight? I'd only just met him, but everything inside of my screamed for more. More Louis. More clicking._

_  
I laughed nervously, and he touched my wrist, just fucking reached out and touched my wrist and acted like it didn't shift the entire universe. I put my hand on top of his, and louder and more clearly, I heard it._

_  
Click._

 

_…_

 

_Saturday night. For most university students that would have meant parties and drinking, but for me it meant a late night shift at my second job. To be fair I wasn't really "in university" in the literal sense. I didn't have a class schedule or classes to go to. I did my classes online so that I could have more time to work. The goal was that both Ronnie and I were to leave university debt free._

_  
So, every day at 5 am, I went to work at the same bakery I'd worked at since I was a teenager, and I worked the fine-dining restaurant by night._

_  
This night was particularly slow. I barely had any tables, so when Gwen, my co-worker asked if I would cover her section so she could dart out early, I accepted quickly._

_  
There was only one table occupied in her section. Two men sat there, one of them making the majority of the conversation. I walked over and when I was face to face with them, I was at a momentary loss of words. I was supposed to introduce myself to them and take their drink order, but the words were locked in the back of my throat._

_  
There were two men sitting there, but I didn't even remember the hair colour of the second one. The first one, however, had dark hair and high cheek bones and the literal most dashing smile I had ever seen. He smiled at me, expectantly while I stood there like a mute idiot. My eyes met his and I'm fairly certain that his eyes quite literally sparkled like my moms aquamarine ring. There was a brief pause then, as the smile slipped from his face and his eyes locked on mine. My ears flooded with a whoosh like I was standing next to the ocean and I felt unstable on my feet. Then, out of nowhere I heard a click. It resonated through my head as I stayed locked on his eyes. They crinkled at the edges and I realized he was smiling again. The sun had nothing on the glow that came from his face._

_  
Then, loudly and out of place, the other man cleared his throat and jabbed his menu toward my hand._

_  
"Bring us a bottle of Pinot noir and a couple glasses of water,"_

_  
And then the beautiful boy rolled his eyes dramatically at the other, "you really have all the manners of an American, you know?" Snapped blue eyes, and then he looked back to me, "excuse him, he doesn't know how to speak to people."_

_  
"Excuse,_ him _," said the other guy, pointing at me, "he doesn't know how to do his fucking job, he's just standing there like a deer in the headlights and I want a drink."_

_  
Again, his blue eyes rolled dramatically, he reached out and touched the back of my hand, "you're doing a great job," he said calmly, and I nodded, somehow remembering how to move and left to get them a bottle of wine._

_  
My head spun while I asked the bartender for the drink and I stared back toward the table that housed the man who was causing this newfound inner turmoil. Who was this guy? Why did I feel so weird when I stood next to him?_

_  
Best question yet was, why was such a wonderful and warm person like him sitting with such a rude guy? It didn't make sense. The tension in my gut didn't make sense. I was married. I had been since a few days after my eighteenth birthday. Blue eyed strangers weren't supposed to mean a thing to me, and yet..._

_  
I grabbed the bottle of wine and brought it to the table. The rude man stood at that moment and took off toward the bathroom. I swallowed hard as the blue eyed man's eyes met mine._

_  
"What's your name?" He asked, his voice soft._

_  
I wanted to speak, but I didn't remember how. It took me a solid 40 seconds before I remembered that my name was Harry. I croaked out the word to him and I felt inferior. What right did I have to use my voice in the presence of this god-like being. I had no right._

_  
But he smiled then and said "I'm Louis, and I've got to tell you, Harry I might be on the worst date anyone has ever been on--like, ever."_

_  
Sincerity sparked in his eyes and I laughed then, because he said things so plainly and so to the point that it caught me off guard._

_  
As soon as the laughter left my lips, I saw his eyes crinkle at the sides and his responsive smile was 6 shades more dazzling than before._

_  
I heard it again, then as our laughter pooled together._

_  
Click._

_  
"Listen," he said, touching the back of my hand again, "I really need to be rescued right now, so if you can maybe trip and dump hot food on his lap or something?"_

_  
I laughed again, "you want me to dump food on him?"_

_  
Funny. God damn, he was funny._

_  
"Yes, preferably soup." He clarified, "because anything that makes this night end just a little bit sooner would be the biggest favour you'd ever grant me."_

_  
"I'll do what I can," i said, now seeing the other man approach the table._

_  
Blues eyes--Louis, looked back at me and gave me a comforting smile. Heat whooshed through my insides and I felt my cheeks ablaze under his stare._

_  
Click._

__  
The rest of the meal went on like that, the other guy kept slipping away to take business calls, and Louis would flag me over and beg me to save him. He made me laugh and promised even though the guy was a jerk that he'd make him leave me a good tip.  
Eventually, they left. 

_  
I stood next to the bar after the restaurant was clean and counted my tips my mind still on Louis. As I pulled on my coat and said goodbye to the kitchen staff, I found my heart was still drumming in my chest, the more I thought about him._

_  
I walked out of the restaurant and my heart nearly jumped in my throat as I saw Louis, leaned neatly against the building, smoking a cigarette, one foot rested against the building. He looked like the bad boy that every girl fell in love with in every bad movie I'd ever seen. I spotted me and flicked his cigarette on the ground. His smile was huge._

_  
"Thank you for being my sanity tonight," was how his speech began. "I really needed it because that guy was something else. All he wanted to do was talk about stock markets and portfolios and take these boring business calls. I need to do something fun, I'm not into boring." His grin lit up every inch of my insides, "wanna go for a midnight drive with me? See if we can break a rule or two?"_

_  
Click. Click. Click._

__  
I was nodding before I processed what he had even said. Everything inside of me was a yes.  
A sly grin took over his face and he tossed me his car keys.

_  
"I'm in the mood to be driven completely mad," he said, and took my hand. "Take me way."_

_  
Click._

_..._

 

My eyes flew open and I saw the plain white ceiling. Butterflies were alive in my stomach and all I could think about was how safe and at home I felt. It was still too strange to wake up in a different place and not be terrified, but the second I knew where I was, I felt relief wash over me. I rolled over, knowing exactly what I would see, and sure enough, there was Louis.

  
Click.

  
I heard the sound from my dreams. I looked at him there, his hair in a tornado and his jaw hanging open. He thrown his pillow across the room and laid on this stomach with his arms above his head. I smiled as I took it in. His skin was so smooth and tanned and _soft_. I couldn't possibly go another second without touching it. Without feeling his softness. I wrapped myself around him and felt the warmth of him spread through my entire being. He stirred then, mumbling something I didn't recognize and wedged his arms around me and squeezed. I'm sure happiness literally over flowed out of me, because I had never felt _so_   _much_.

  
"'S wrong?" He said in a groggy voice.

  
"Absolutely nothing,"

  
And we both fell back asleep then, with our bodies pressed as tightly together as I could manage.

...

 

I don't know how long we'd been asleep but suddenly there was a loud banging out on the door to Louis' apartment. I jumped up and immediately felt Louis hands slide down my back in comfort.

  
"Just the door, Harold." He mumbled pressing his lips to my bare shoulder, "I'm keen to ignore it if you are."

  
"Mmm," I said, feeling goosebumps rise against my neck.

  
I turned to him and lifted his chin and smashed my face into his like I'd been starved for days. Easily, I convinced him to open his mouth against mine and I felt his tongue. Morning breath be damned, there wasn't a way I would have gone another second without tasting him. Just as I closed my eyes against the deep growl that came from him, the knock came again. He moved to pull back from me. I grabbed the back of his neck and forced my lips against his, "mmm, mmm" I said, tell him not to leave me.

  
I felt his laughter then as he pressed his hands against my chest and pushed my head back onto the pillow.

  
"You're awfully friendly this morning," He noted, now sitting on top of me. Heat rushed through my body as I stared up and looked at him. Just _looking_ at him drove me wild. His skin was so smooth, so soft and so necessary. I ran my fingers across his chest and finally, he leaned down and kissed me.

  
"Tommo!" A thick Irish accent belted from outside of the apartment.

  
Both mine and Louis' phone lit up at the same time and there was another more pronounced knock on the door.

  
"Would you cunts open the door! We brought food!" Pleaded Niall.

  
I felt Louis' smile against my lips. I looked up at him and rolled my eyes.

  
"My best friend is a nightmare," I groaned.

  
He pecked my lips softly, and removed his body from mine. "Shall I tell him you're busy?" Louis said, brushing my hair out of my eyes.

  
"Tempting," I admitted, "but he doesn't give up, might as well bite the bullet."

  
Louis nodded, fondness sparkling in his eyes.

  
I picked up my shirt and pants from the floor and reluctantly pulled them on. I watched as Louis did the same and made a mental note to give Niall shit later. Louis was not meant to be clothed.

  
"Christ, boys open the damned door before your neighbours start complaining," pleaded Niall.

  
Louis laughed lightly, "don't get your nickers in knot, Niall, I'm coming!" He called.

  
I followed Louis through the living room and watched as he opened the front door. Niall, Liam and Zayn spilled in first, Niall clapping Louis on the back. Liam hefted a couple of grocery bags into Louis arms, and took Zayn by the hand, leading him to the kitchen.

  
“Lou, your place is so clean!” Lotties’s voice sang as she and my sister entered the room, arms linked. Gemma’s eyes met mine immediately, sparkling knowingly at me, her eyes saying every smug thing she wouldn't say until we were alone.

  
“What's going on?” Louis asked to the group as a whole.

  
“Well, Tommo, you and Harry forgot we have a tradition in the Horan-Payne household,”

  
“Payne-Horan,” Liam corrected.

  
Niall grinned devilishly, “we have hangover breakfast. It's rule number one, so, since you cunts forgot and left without us, we brought hangover breakfast to you!”

  
I laughed then, walking into the kitchen, where everyone seemed to be gravitating.

  
Liam was rummaging through the cupboards, pulling out pans and Lottie was unloading the groceries.

  
I felt gemma’s arms wrap around me and she whispered in my ear “I'll forgive you for letting me sleep on a lawn chair on a balcony if you make me a perfect poached egg,”

  
I laughed and kissed her cheek, “deal,” I sang.

  
Gemma sat at the breakfast bar next to Niall and Zayn and Liam were opening cans and chipping vegetables, which was kind of amazing to watch, since it appeared they hadn't looked away from each other for a second. I filled a pot with water and watched as Louis started pulling ingredients from the fridge to make smoothies. My chest felt light, just looking at him.

  
After all the time I had spent worrying about what the rest of the world would see, it finally dawned on me what they actually saw. They saw that I was happy. They saw that Louis seemed happy. They'd dragged their hungover asses out of the apartment, to the grocery store and halfway across town because they knew where I was. They knew and they didn't care. Even greater than that, they wanted to be a part of it. They didn't think their hungover breakfast could have been the same without us.

  
Us.

  
My friends. Louis’ friends. They thought of me and they thought of him, but wildly, they thought of _us_. Like we were a thing that existed. A good thing and something that really didn't deserve much of a second thought.

  
I must have positively glowed, because suddenly everything was good. So fucking _good_.  
I took a moment and leaned against the counter, taking in Louis as he went about the most normal task, but somehow looked like the most important human being in the world.

  
And maybe he was.

  
But, though I was ready to admit a lot of things to myself (very suddenly), I wasn't really ready to admit that Louis was everything I'd been waiting for. That maybe his nonchalance and perfectly ridiculous whims and cutting sarcasm were the things that made me think maybe I did want to be saved. (No, I wasn't ready to admit that yet.)

  
I looked over at the breakfast bar where Niall was telling Lottie and Gemma the story about him falling on national television during one of his first real golf events and felt my lips twitch into a smile, despite it being the hundredth time I'd heard the story. Zayn had abandoned chopping the onion on his cutting board in favour of holding Liam by the hips and pressing their foreheads together and mumbling things I couldn't (and maybe didn't want to) hear.

  
And then there was just Louis, who held a bunch of kale in his right hand, and he was looking at me now. Is eyes pleading with me to just be cool. To not worry about my sister and Niall and everyone else.

  
The room was warm and full of laughter. Everything felt perfect, and Louis looked at me like there was a question in my mind. Like I didn't understand that everything was perfection.  
I couldn't have that, not for another second.

  
I pushed myself away from the counter and swept Louis into my arms. He exhaled in surprise and I just held him. I let myself bathe in his warmth and buried my face against his neck.

  
Click.

 

…

  
We were all sitting in the living room of Louis’ flat, Niall having found a guitar somewhere (he was a magnet—nothing he wanted could resist his pull, least of all, musical instruments). Niall was on the only chair, lounging back and strumming lazily. Gemma and Zayn were on the couch and Liam was leaned between Zayn’s legs, staring up at him happily. Louis was laughing loddly as Niall and Liam exchanged words and made up the most perfect song for the moment we were living in. Louis sat on the carpet, his legs crossed, and his hand playing around in my hair absently as he mumbled something about Niall and Liam talking out of their asses. I was stretched out on my stomach, the side of my body pressed purposefully as close to Louis as possible without actually sitting on him. Next to me, also splayed on her stomach, was Lottie who giggled whole heartedly as the ridiculous song started to gain strength. She was painting my nails turquoise (the only colour she had in her purse at the moment, though she swore that she'd give me a better selection next time).

_Next time._

  
“It's true though,” mused Liam, still mostly just gazing up at Zayn, “the best conversations happen in the middle of the night, half pissed.”

  
Zayn nodded his agreement.

  
“When the night just kind of feels infinite,” Louis’ voice was serious and animated, “when wars could be waging all around you but nothing really matters but that night.”

  
“Those are the times everyone always remembers. The nights when you meet the best people and get to know them like they'd been there all along,” Niall said, a statement that was oddly serious for him.

  
“But that's when people are the most real, though isn't it?” I heard myself saying, and everyone's eyes were on me, “when it's the middle of the night and the rest of the world is silent and you've had maybe a bit too much to drink, but everything feels more real, somehow, like you can actually see people without the pretences.”

  
They all stared at me for a moment, and when I didn't say anything else, Niall began to play again. This was what safety was. This was real and honest and these were the people who knew me, who loved me, and I knew them and I loved them too. It was all perfect.

  
So I sang the words they were working on, Louis' smile beamed down at me. I broke off with my own laughter because I couldn't really function with his eyes on mine so seriously. Niall picked up where I left off, and somehow, amongst our hangovers, and my over thinking, we made a song. A special song that existed in this special place that was born after a night of drinking and smoking pot until the sun had come up. It was foolish and perfect and I resented the fact that at some point, this day was going to end and we'd never get to live it again, try as we may.

  
But for now, I was glad. I was glad my sister had come to London, glad that Niall was home and that Liam had found a dark and mysterious stranger to call his own. Glad that I had finally met Louis’ sister, and that she didn't think it was weird to lay on the floor painting my nails while I sang a song about how perfect our night had been.

  
But most of all, I felt glad that Louis Tomlinson had made me brave enough to be able to recognize what happiness really felt like.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes. That's A.M. they're singing at the end


	21. Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe a bit of a boring chapter, but a big one for Harry. 
> 
> Song inspo for this chapter: I Believe in You by Michael Bublé

**_Harry_ **

 

Regretfully, as the sun began to set on the most perfect Sunday I'd ever lived through, and the pizza boxes emptied, my friends started to talk about leaving. I didn't want the day to end, because everything had been perfect, and if I'd learned anything about perfection in the past 22 years, it was that it was nearly impossible to recreate. Zayn and Liam were washing the dishes, and Niall still fiddled with the guitar, while Louis and Gemma played the millionth round of Mario cart that night. Lottie and I had made a pile of pillows and blankets in the middle of the floor and had been slipping in and out of wakefulness for the last hour. Louis was going to drive everyone home when Liam and Zayn finished the dishes and, truthfully I wished they'd never finish. Watching everyone exist inside of the apartment that had, against all odds, become my sanctuary, felt surreal.

  
“Do you wanna go back to your place?” Louis asked me, suddenly.

  
It wasn't really a question, not for me anyway, but maybe it was for Gemma. Maybe she didn't want to go back there without me.

  
But when I looked up, she was shaking her head back and forth, I raised an eyebrow at her.  
“Stay,” she said.

  
“You're more than welcome to stay too, obviously,” Louis told her, “Harry can drive you to your train in the morning.”

  
She smiled at him and nodded, “perfect,” was all she said, and all she really had to say, because really, the word only word I could have chosen to describe the past 24 hours would have been just that.

 

Once Louis had left to drive everyone home, it was just Gemma and I left. We were curled up together on the couch, watching music videos mindlessly. Internally, I felt safe and relieved, but also highly aware that she was about to back me into a corner and ask me things about Louis I probably couldn't answer. She stayed quiet for an agonizing amount of time, probably plotting exactly which corner to back me into.

  
“You're lucky, Harry,” was all she said.

  
I almost didn't want to respond, because I obviously knew that, but feeling things was still new, and the only thing that could have been scarier would be actually talking about them.

  
“you don't make it easy, though, do you?”

  
I sighed, having a hard time following her train of thought, “make what easy?”

  
“Feeling things, you get yourself too worked up and you second guess so much instead of just letting it happen.”

  
I didn't respond to her, waiting until she dropped the subject. Of course I'd never get off that easily.

  
“I like him, Harry,” she turned to me then, hitting the power button on the television and making it impossible to focus on something other than what she was saying. “Like, really like him.”

  
Oh god, the guilt, the regret, it all spilled over me suddenly and I felt nauseated.

  
“But you loved Ronnie,” I argued

  
“Of course Harry, of course I loved him, I loved him because he made you happy. That's all that ever mattered. I've only ever wanted you to have the things that make you happy. I've never cared what they are, just that you have them,”

  
“I—"

  
“Shh,” she said, placing her hand on my knee. “Ronnie was right for you then. You were a kid. You needed direction. You needed someone to give you stability, you wanted to be lead.” She sighed, “but Harry, you aren't the same person anymore. You're grown up. You're brave. You're quirky and weird and now you just need someone who can show you it's okay to have fun--that's not going to be Ronnie.”

  
My chest felt like it was collapsing. Maybe she saw it, because her eyes sparkled with tears and she shook her head slowly, trying to keep them away. I wanted to say something to her. Most prominently, I wanted to apologize to her, because she knew I was a liar.

  
She touched my cheek, her eyes still glassy, “I'm just so happy, Harry.”

  
It was ironic because she looked so sad, so I had to laugh, “you're a horrible liar, Gem.”

  
She laughed lightly, “I mean it, Haz. It's been so long, and I've worried so much that you'd never let yourself move on. It seemed like you never would, and that's all I've wanted for you. I just want you to be able to take what happened to you, feel it, accept it and rebuild. You're finally doing that and I've never been so proud of you. You always amaze me Harry, but letting yourself love? That's the bravest thing you've done yet, and I know how hard that has always been for you.”

  
Oh god. Gemma had just said about 4 things that made me feel awful, crushing guilt and a cold ball of ice was in my gut. She thought I'd moved on, which roughly translated to “forgot about Ronnie”, which was far from the truth. Worse, she thought it was brave of me to forget the love I'd pledged my life to. Brave. I wanted to laugh cynically, because it wasn't brave, it was sad and pathetic and ironically the thing I feared most in the world. She'd been hoping all this time that I'd move on? That I'd forget being in love with the person who had defined everything about me?

  
Obviously the most frightening thing she had said was a word that started with “L” that I'd never said to another soul but Ronnie, Niall and my family. Gemma tossed it around casually like it was just a fact that existed in the universe, something to be seen objectively and not something that made my skin crawl with fear.

  
“Gemma,” I said, pausing and thinking about the words I wanted to say. “That's not…” I sighed, “that's not how I feel. I've only known Louis a few weeks, you know? I can't—it doesn't happen like that, Gem. You don't spend that many years loving someone and forget them for the first guy you meet. I'm not--I _can't_ love Louis,"

  
Why did the last sentence burn my throat on its way out?

  
“Maybe not yet, Harry, maybe you don't know it yet, but you will be and you've got to know that's okay. It's okay to love someone who is ready to love you back.” She raised an eyebrow at me, “and besides, Louis is far from the first guy you've met. He's the first guy you've given a shot, and from what Niall says, it sounds like you're pretty lucky he put up with all your shit.”

  
“You and Niall are the two biggest gossips I've ever met,”

  
“Point is, Harry, Louis is in love with you and I really think you're ready to let him be. You deserve it.”

  
I felt my face flame with blush, and I wanted to collapse in on myself rather than feel all the butterflies that were in my stomach. I was surprised, because the first thing I felt wasn't guilt, it was embarrassment, it was the same feeling I'd felt when Louis told me he forgave me. I was confused because it didn't make sense, but it felt good.

  
Of course, the guilt set in almost instantly, and it originated mostly for guilt about not immediately feeling guilt. Which was kind of worse.

  
“Louis isn't in love with me,” I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince her or myself.

  
She took my hand and squeezed it, “everyone else can see it, Harry. Maybe he hasn't said it, but it doesn't make it less true.”

  
I was silent after that. I had nothing to say to Gemma because I didn't know how to process her words. All I could think about was the phone call. When Ronnie had begged me to get there. When he'd begged me to promise him I'd always love him. That I'd always be there to save him. That no matter what I wouldn't forget him or the things we'd had.

  
I had promised him forever. It shouldn't have been so hard because it wasn't work. He couldn't mess up, it was only me. All I had to do was keep loving him like I always had, but I had never anticipated Louis.

  
I hadn't imagined what might happen if I'd met him. I could never have been prepared.  
I looked at Gemma and I wondered how she could be so unquestionably happy for me. I'd been in love already and it had broken me. How could she ever think I'd want to go through that again? How could she possibly think the prospect of me loving someone was good?  
This time could be so much worse. Ronnie had died. He had left the world I lived in and the last thing he'd told me was that he'd always love me. Louis wasn't the same. Louis didn't want to die. He loved his life and if he left me I would be only in the wake of a horrible tragedy or because his feelings had changed. Louis wouldn't come with a guarantee the same way ronnies death had.

  
It was all too horrifying for me to imagine.

  
I didn't deserve any of it. I didn't deserve any of the wonderful things around me after the way I'd ruined Tessa and Ronnie's lives. After the way I'd pushed away everyone who'd tried to love me. After I'd broken so many people on my mission to stay far away from feeling. I hadn't been a good person and I felt suspicious and wrong that I could be given a gift like Louis. It didn't make any sense, and the more I thought about it, the more I imagined the hurt I would feel when I fucked it up. It was inevitable because I didn't have a clue how to _really_ be with someone. I barely grasped what being a good friend meant most of the time.

  
“You should bring him to meet mum.” Said Gemma, dropping the idea into the room like a boulder, “it would make her and Robin happy, you know. We just want to see you happy,”  
I shook my head vigorously, “I can't do that.”

  
I wouldn't do that. I could never bring Louis to Holmes chapel. I could never bring him into the ruins of the place i had once called home. I couldn't let him walk in the shadows that Ronnie had cast across the entire town. There was no way.

  
Right on cue, interrupting the conversation I was in no way ready to have in the first place, Louis marched through the door. He tossed his keys onto the ground, landing in the mess of shoes by his front door. It must have meant that I was losing my mind and in much deeper than I'd planned because I found his disorganization endearing rather than irritating.

  
Half a second before he'd walked through the door, I'd been ready to shut down and protect myself. I'd been ready to pull away because Gemma had made it all too real, but now I watched him kick off his shoes in opposite directions and fling his coat into the front closet, my insides felt soft. I wanted all of his foolish little things to surround me and fill me up and I wanted to tease him for being messy and have him tease me for being a health nut. I wanted to eat his undercooked cinnamon rolls and drive aimlessly and go weeks without leaving his flat. I wanted everything that made up Louis. It was scary and unsafe and completely thoughtless. It all came so simply that there was really no way to sum it up. No way to second guess it when it was staring me in the face.

 

Later that night, after we'd set up the couch for Gemma, Louis and I sat in his bed. I'd fit myself neatly against his side and he read me the reviews of one of the songs he'd recently written. He laughed loudly as he read out the bad ones, agreeing with most of the points. Criticism seemed to be something that Louis easily took in stride. It was kind of magnificent to observe someone who was so thoroughly secure in every aspect of his life.

  
He locked his phone unexpectedly and put it down. “I wanted to ask you something,” he said, and I sensed apprehension. I wanted Louis to feel like he could say anything to me, but I understood where it came from. I'd fought against him for so long that accepting my sudden change of heart had to come with its own special set of reservations.

  
I slid my hand cross his chest, “what?”

  
“Next weekend Lottie and I are going home. It's Doris and Ernest’s second birthday.”

  
“So you want me to stay here and water your plants?”

  
He laughed and leaned across to kiss my collarbone. “No, you nusance,” his voice was lighter now, his confidence dazzling within his words. “I want you to come with me.”

  
“To a wild second birthday bash?” I joked, “I hardly see that I have a choice.”

  
Louis didn't hide his shock well. His mouth hung open for a moment until he realized and snapped his jaw shut. An impossible smile lit up his face, “yeah?” He confirmed.

  
“you didn't think I'd say yes,” I accused him.

  
He held my chin between his thumb and forefinger and stared over at me, “I'd just say I'm pleasantly surprised, is all.”

  
“I probably won't be very good at it,” I admitted softly.

  
“Rubbish,” his lips met mine for a brief second, “Lottie and I would just be yapping about you the whole time anyway, you may as well be there.”

  
"I like Lottie, I like how I am when I'm with you, it would be stupid for me to avoid it. I'm curious to see the people who made you who you are."

  
I felt him glow as I spoke the truths out loud. I wanted so many things at once, but I somehow knew that I couldn't say no to Louis. My innate sense to sabotage everything good was quiet now, and I instead felt the need to preserve it. I wanted to forget the person I'd been before him. I wanted to be only _his_ Harry. To forget the mess I'd come so used to calling my life. I had the opportunity to leave behind the pathetic, sad thing I'd been for years and it was both thrilling and terrifying.

  
Really being with Louis, in all the way he wanted, with all the words and promises that went along with it was terrifying and... impossible. I felt an enormous sense of betrayal for even just thinking it.

  
And yet, to walk away from the things he had given me, to pretend that I didn't want them, to callously toss them away? That was out of my power. I couldn't do it.

  
And Louis made it easy. He made it simple and straight forward to be with him. He left everything open and vulnerable and I never had to question where he stood. It was comforting. But there was always something, or rather someone, looming in the background. Even though Louis had said that he didn't want to change anything, I felt different. My life _was_ different and that was no fault of Ronnie’s. It was my fault, and even with the promises Louis was so willing to make, the reassurances he was so willing to give, it left a cold feeling in my bones when I remembered the boy I was beginning to forget.

 

Niall slammed his controller on the bed angrily.

  
"Have you been practicing with your boyfriend, because you never win, Harry!"

  
Niall was a sore loser and he was willing to chalk my win up to just about anything other than me actually being better.

  
"Shut up Niall," I groaned, because he knew how I felt about that word and it wasn't really fair of him to casually drop it into conversation.

  
"Well, harry, the shoe bloody fits and you've been wearing it, so what would you have me say?"

  
"Nothing," I countered.

  
Niall was quiet for a moment, treading around what he really wanted to ask.

  
"What about that anyway? Gemma has been texting me all week for updates but you haven't told me a damn thing."

  
"Because there's nothing to tell you,"

  
"And when was the last day you were at your own flat?"

  
"Yesterday," I snapped.

  
"And did he spend the night with you?"

  
"No,"

  
And it was only half a lie, because I _had_ been at my flat yesterday to get clothes (which I'd washed along with Louis in the washing machine in _his_ flat, but that was beyond the point). Louis hadn't spent the night, but neither had I. But Niall was trying to catch me and I wasn't going to have that.

  
“You're so Jesus annoying,” he groaned, flopping back onto his pillows, “Liam practically got married over night and you're madly in love with Louis and you won't even tell the poor bloke. It's exhausting being your friend sometimes,”

  
“Madly in love? What Disney movie have you been watching? The real world doesn't work like that Niall. I wish everyone would just stop telling me I'm in love with Louis,”

  
“Maybe when you admit you're not just fucking, Harry, Louis means more to you than that.”

  
“Next question please,” I said, like a parrot who repeated the same thing in every bloody conversation I had.

  
“Fine,” Niall said with reluctance, “you coming to watch me play this weekend?”

  
I bit my lip, “I'm going out of town,” and fuck, we were right back to where we'd started.

  
Niall looked flabbergasted, “like… You're leaving London?”

  
To be fair, it was a bit shocking, the last time I'd left London was last Christmas when I'd gone to Manchester to spend it with Gemma and our parents. They knew I didn't go home. I never left London, except for the times I followed Niall to golf tournaments or for Christmas in Ireland and places that were _not_ Holmes Chapel.

  
“Where are you going?”

  
I shrugged, “Doncaster.”

  
Niall's eyes narrowed at me and he wore a cocky smile, “as in, you're going to meet Louis’ family,”

  
I groaned loudly, “yes, Niall, you pain in the ass, I'm going to Doncaster and I'm going to meet his damn family and probably fuck the whole thing up,” I inhaled sharply, “happy now?”

  
“No,” he said quietly.

  
He flicked off the light in the bedroom and moved under the covers, signalling that he was done with the night and, thankfully, the conversation.

  
It was unlike him to give up so easily, and the more I thought about it, it was really annoying to be honest. Niall and I worked because he pushed me passed my lines. He made me talk when it sucked, when it hurt and when it felt impossible, and now when I (not that I'd admit it to him) wanted to talk, he'd given up.

  
I sat in the silence for a long time and got under the covers, thinking about the speed the world around me was spinning at.

  
I was barely keeping my balance.

  
"Niall," I said once I finally couldn't handle the silence another second.

  
"Mm," he responded, sleepiness in his voice.

  
"It's really hard, you know?"

  
He rolled over and laid on his side so he could face me, "I know you think that,"

  
"I don't dream about him the same," I mumbled. I hated expressing myself, but something about the darkness in Niall’s room and the fact that he was ready to fall asleep anyway made it a bit easier.

  
"I had all these dreams on the weekend about Louis,"

  
"I'm shocked," Niall said sarcastically.

  
"I was an adult in them and Ronnie was alive and we were together but I just kept picking Louis,"

  
Finally, Niall began to take my concern seriously. He stared at me hard for a moment.

  
"You don't know Ronnie anymore. You don't know what he would have been like as an adult, it only makes sense that you'd pick Louis."

  
"Actually, it makes no sense."

  
"Harry, you couldn't pay me enough to be with the girl I dated in high school. She's nothing like the girls I date now. We grew up. Louis is the person you're supposed to be with now. Everyone but you can see that."

  
"It wasn't supposed to happen like this,"

  
"Of course it was," Niall argued with an intensity I wasn't used to, "think of all the guys you've met since Ronnie. None of them changed your mind and then you met Louis and I knew he'd change your mind from that first night. It's not a bad thing Harry, he's a good one."

  
"I didn't say Louis was the problem, the problem is obviously me. Why is it so easy for me to let go of the one person I'm supposed to love?"

  
"Harry Edward Styles," Niall snipped, "you have been clinging onto that boy for 7 years and it's not like it's been easy. No one expected you to hold onto it that long, Harry. It's not something he would have expected. Yes, a suicidal 17 year old asked you to cling on to him, but it's not realistic. You deserve to be happy, Harry. Louis can help with that. It doesn't change anything, it's just new. It's just a fresh start. No one would expect less, Harry."

 

I was sitting in the passenger seat in Louis corolla, somewhere between London and Doncaster and I was singing at the top of my lungs with Lottie.

  
"Is it too late now to say sorry!" She screamed from the backseat.

  
Louis laughed brightly at our antics and placed his hand softly on my thigh. I looked over at him and he met my eyes, giving me his special, blushing smile that made his eyes crinkle and his head shake from side to side with giddiness. (Louis had approximately 50 or so smiles, but that was by-far my favourite of the bunch.)

  
"Eyes on the road, Lou!" Lottie joked from the backseat.

  
"The road's got nothing on Harry," he responded, winking at me and looking back to the road.

  
I felt something flutter in my chest. I wound my fingers through my his. Everything still felt so good, despite all of the stressful conversations I'd been having with Niall and Gemma (who had called me approximately 60 times since Niall had told her my plans for the weekend).

  
“Mum’s going to be so happy to see Harry,” Lottie said, matter-of-factly.

  
“Really?” I asked, shocked that anyone would be excited to meet a mess like me.

  
“Sure will!” She said excitedly.

  
“Lottie,” Louis’ voice had a big brother warning behind it.

  
“I told her all about you,” gushed Lottie, “Louis respects you too much too gush, so I did it for him,”

  
I laughed, despite the horror on Louis’ face. “I'm sure Gemma will do the same,”

  
I saw Louis’ cheeks flame at the thought and it was just so endearing, I had to reach out and touch the blush. “There's lots to tell,” I mused, staring at Louis as he stared at the road, a smile playing on his lips.

  
Lottie was quiet then, and I kept my eyes on Louis as his blush slipped away. I slid my hand into his thigh and he exhaled slowly. I rubbed his leg slowly, trying to imagine what his family would be like.

  
“I forgot to say something important, Lou.” Lottie said suddenly.

  
“Mmm?” Louis said, sliding his hand across the top of mine.

  
“I'm calling dibs on not babysitting!” She laughed loudly.

  
Louis looked over to me again, “sorry,” he said, laughing a little bit, “I definitely should have seen that coming, of course Fizzy wants a night off.”

  
Lottie grinned wickedly, “She might have mentioned it,”

  
“I've never babysat before,” I mused, staring out the windshield.

  
Louis shrugged, “I can't remember a time before babysitting.”

  
Lottie laughed, “and then you left me and I inherited the job, so this is payback.”

  
“Phoebe and Daisy will be head over heels for you,” Louis told me softly, squeezing my hand, “so I'm sure they'll just ignore me all night in favour of you,”

  
“Can't say I'd blame them,” Lottie piped up, “Harry's perfect.”

  
“I'm insulted mostly because I can't argue with you.” Louis said in his dry, sarcastic tone.

  
“No need to be offended Lou, Mum’s gonna play favourites too. Might as well get used to what your future looks like.”

  
Louis looked over at me again, “the future looks perfect,”

 

We pulled into Louis’ driveway behind a giant mini van, awhile later. Louis put the car into park and Lottie darted out of the car and tore up the driveway a top speed. I heard a dog barking from behind the back gate. Lottie screamed after it and I stayed frozen in the passenger seat, staring up at the brick house before me. Ice swirled around in my gut. I was nervous because, not only had I never anticipated Louis, I'd definitely never anticipated having to meet someone else's family. Ronnie's family had been my own. His sister, his mom, they'd loved me. I'd tried so hard to keep it that way for the last 7 years. With Ronnie's mom, I'd always tried so hard to just be perfect, to present her with only the most admirable pieces of my personality, but over the years those parts of me had washed away I was no longer a saint. I felt dirty and tainted and I was so pathetic, so empty. I still couldn't find out what it was Louis even liked about me, let alone could I fathom how to win over his family.

  
Instantly I felt regret.

  
Why had I come here. There was nothing to gain. I was going to ruin Louis’ weekend and his family would surely tell him I wasn't worth it.

  
Suddenly my door opened and I realized I'd been paralyzed in the front seat while Louis had been waiting patiently for me. He leaned into the car and undid my seatbelt, grabbing my hand and tugging me out of the car. Quickly he pulled me into his embrace and hugged me tightly to him and nuzzled his face against my neck.

  
“Scared?” He asked softly.

  
I didn't respond, so he squeezed me tighter.

  
After a moment, I finally relented against his undeterred hug. I relaxed my body and buried my face in his hair. “Too much hairspray,” I muttered.

  
He bit my neck and jabbed a finger in my ribs, “listen, Tarzan, we can't all wake up looking like the model version of a sexy jungle king,”

  
I laughed at that, bending to place my lips against his neck. I kissed him softly, and he kept his hands firmly on his hips.

  
“Now, Harold, what's really wrong?” He pressed.

  
Again, I remained silent.

  
“You're a real piece of work, you know that, right? You are fluent in silence.”

  
“Beats being fluent in sarcasm,”

  
“You dabble in that as well,”

  
“Mmm,” I said, pressing my lips to his ear.

  
“so, you're scared then?”

  
Louis would press until I caved. His confidence with me was growing. He had found his footing and was finally aware that he could pretty much do as he pleased now that he'd changed the entire direction my world spun in. He wasn't so afraid to scare me off. He had tactics now and he skirted around them to see which ones would be most effective. He let me be silent for a moment before he spoke again.

  
“Do you trust me?” He whispered into my ear. I kissed his neck seven times while I debated my response.

  
“Yes,” I said finally.

  
“Then, please talk to me?” He tried.

  
I sighed against his skin and then kissed the goosebumps I saw emerging, “I—I just…” I wrapped myself tighter around him, using his body to support my own. “I never imagined that I'd drive all the way out here to meet your family. I never imagined id meet you at all. Now it all seems a bit much, meeting your family and all.”

  
He tightened his grip around me, “Harry, I've always told you I will never force you to do something you're not comfortable with. If you don't want to do this, just say so and I'll get us a hotel so you can have your privacy, or whatever it is you need.”

  
“I don't need privacy, Lou,” I mumbled against his neck, “just you.” The last words slipped out quickly before I could think them through.

  
His grip tightened on me, “you mean so much to me,” and as he said the words, I felt my whole body blush with heat, but thy felt restrained. They felt like, contrary to his very personality, he was holding back. He was saying only part of what he felt. “I'm the happiest I've ever been because of you.”

  
I signed, gripping him tighter against me. “You're right,” I said, finally folding against him, finally saying the things I felt. “I am scared because I'm a mess and I want your family to like me. I don't know why, but it matters a lot more to me than I thought it would.”

  
He kissed my cheek, “then I have excellent news for you,” he said, feeding his fingers through mine, linking both of our hands. “They love you. They already do because you make me happy and that's the only thing they care about.”

  
“You're confident,”

  
“because they'd have to have a mental illness not to fall for you, Harold. That and Lottie already softened them up.”

  
I kissed his pink lips softly and smiled back at him.

  
His answering smile always outshined the brightest stars, “ready, then?”

  
I nodded slowly, and Louis released my right hand, leading me by my left toward the house.

 

It all happened very quickly. First and foremost I was nearly tackled by a black lab who completely covered my face in kisses while Lottie and a charming set of matching twelve year olds laughed hysterically. Louis pushed the excited mutt out of the way and took my hand back in his.

  
“Louis!” Squealed a young dark haired girl, who flew from around a corner and practically tackled him. He returned her hug without letting go of my hand. As she pulled away, she looked out at me, smiling the same way Lottie had the first time I'd met her.  
“Harry, this is Fizzy.”

  
She batted away his hand and swooped me into a hug, “is it true that you let Lottie paint your nails and you actually enjoy shopping?”

  
I laughed then, staring back into her eyes, “yes and yes.”

  
“I love him,” she said to Louis, and his face lit up the room.

  
“Knew you would,”

  
“He's handsome too, I hope my first boyfriend is half as handsome as yours, Lou.”

  
Oh. And there it was. Had I expected something less? I'd driven all the way out to Doncaster with him, he'd kissed me in the driveway and walked through the front door holding my hand. What other word would be tossed around in a situation like this. People brought home boyfriends. That was normal. What else would they see me as? I couldn't correct her, because they would never like me then.

  
The word still rang in my ears because the more the people around me tossed it around like no big deal, the more I realized the truth behind it. I probably was Louis’ boyfriend. I felt horror in my gut, and I tried to keep the smile plastered to my face as Fizzy walked away to hug her big sister. Louis grabbed my hand again and leaned into my ear.

  
“I'm sorry,” he said, apologizing for the word that was being casually tossed around.

  
“It's okay,” I told him, squeezing his hand, unsure whether I meant the words or not. I didn't really know what okay was.

  
Next, the pair of dark haired girls came over to hug Louis.he kissed them and hugged them and ruffled their hair despite their complaints. Watching Louis light up around his sisters was… Well it was something. It made me feel lightness in my chest in a new way (add it to the list).

  
“This one is Daisy,” said Louis, gesturing to the first girl and tugging on her poneytail. The other one wore her hair down and Louis lovingly tucked a stray hand behind her ear, “and this is Phoebe,”

  
“hi Harry,” said phoebe quickly and politely.

  
Daisy’s cheeks flamed with blush, “hi,” she said shyly.

  
After that, Louis kicked his shoes off and motioned for me to do the same. I placed them neatly next to his and again, he took my hand and lead me further into the house. We walked through a kitchen that was crowded with dishes and a giant pot ofspaghetti sauce  simmered away, making the room smell like an Italian restaurant. Passed the kitchen was the living room and on the couch sat Louis mom and her husband. On the floor played two adorable babies. Lottie was already on the floor, scooping up Ernest and covering his laughing face in kisses. Louis let go of my hand and scooped up the other baby and kissed her smiling face.

  
“Doris, meet Harry,” he cooed and she squeezed his face happily.

  
Lottie was standing now with Ernest in her arms.

  
“Give me my other baby, Louis!” She demanded, reaching out to grab Doris. Louis conceited and handed the bouncing baby over to his sister, who covered her face in kisses.

  
“Hi mum,” said Louis, as his mom stood up to hug him.

  
She kissed his cheeks happily and I felt immediate guilt over how long it had been since if laid eyes on my own other.

  
“Boo Bear, my little pop star, I missed you!”

  
Louis hissed in her ear, “enough with the boo bear crap, mum, it's embarrassing.” But he laughed despite himself.

  
“I'm sure Harry's mom calls him something equally as stupid,” she muttered as she pulled away from him.

  
“But _his_ mother probably has the good sense to keep it to herself,” joked Louis.

  
“After all these years, you'd think he'd go a little easier on his old mother,” she said, smiling at me. Just as Fizzy had done, she batted away Louis hand from mine and pulled me into a warm hug. She smelled like vanilla beans and her skin held a warm glow it it, just like Louis’. She pulled away from me and held my shoulders as she studied my face.

  
“I like him,” she said looking over her shoulder at Louis. Louis proud smile hasn't wavered for a moment as he watched his mother taking me in.

  
“Welcome to the madhouse,” she said, rubbing my arm softly. “You have siblings?”

  
“Just a sister,” I said softly.

  
“Older or younger?”

  
“Older,”

  
She nodded, “nieces or nephews?”

  
“None,” I responded.

  
“Well, if sisters and babies are what you were missing in your life, stick with Boo Bear, he's got them in throes,”

  
“Mum!” Louis said in mock annoyance, “you've got to stop before you scare him off.”  
She kissed my cheek and grabbed my hand and towed me over to the couch, where I sat down next to her. On her other side, her husband stuck out his hand for me to shake.

  
“I'm Daniel,” he said.

  
“And before you ask, yes, my mother is a cradle robber,” joked Louis, walking back toward the kitchen. He returned in a moment with two beers. He flopped next to me, resting his head on my shoulder.

   
“Kind of gives you a toothache, they're so sweet, innit?” Said Lottie from the floor, where she was play patty cake with the babies.

  
“I think it's nice,” said Louis’ mom, “he's never proper brought a boy home before,”

  
“That's because you lot are so bloody embarrassing you scare everyone off,”

  
“Am not!” Said fizzy, from the chair across the room, “you're only saying that because you've never proper had a boyfriend you liar,” she stuck her tongue out at Louis and Louis jumped from the couch and started tickling her until their mother finally told them to stop.

  
“She started it,” whined Louis as he came back and wedged himself into the tiny spot next to me and the arm of the couch.

 

  
“Its true though, Harry, Louis doesn't bring boys over.” His mom had taken to holding my hand as she watched all of her children, all finally inside of her house. She looked over at me and smiled.

  
“This really is the first time he's brought someone by since he moved to london—you must be pretty special, Harry.”

  
Louis kissed my cheek, “he is,” Louis assured her and me at the same time.

 

 

Once supper was over, Louis lead me upstairs to what used to be his room, but now belonged to Daisy. He flopped onto the bed and I stayed quiet in the doorway, watching him.

  
“How good does that hotel sound now?” He asked offhandedly.

  
“Awful,” I responded.

  
He sat up so I could properly see him raise his eyebrow.

  
“They're great. They're loud and embarrassing and they all speak their mind, just like you. They're perfect.”

  
“Well now I know you're lying to make me feel better,” he called me forward with his finger.  
I walked over to him, placing my knees on either side of his hips. He grinned up at me, pleasantly surprised that I really meant my words. Their house was comfortable and chaotic. It felt like a real home. They were real people who loved Louis, who wanted him around and wanted to see him happy. I laid down completely on top of him, pressing my face against his scruffy jaw and breathing in the smell of him. My body moved up and down with his intake of breaths.

  
He sighed happily, “any particular reason you wanted to restrict my airways? You're not trying to kill me and steal my family as your own are you?”

  
"Shut up," I whispered against his jaw.

  
He wrapped his arms around my back, and despite complaining I was suffocating him, held me tighter.

  
“Listen,” he said and the word felt heavy, like he was trying to kill the moment. Like he felt like he needed to talk about all the things that might be bothering me, but the truth was, nothing was bothering me. I was out here, far from everything is thought was my comfort zone, but I somehow felt more comfortable here with Louis and his family than I ever had in the past.

  
“No, you listen, Louis Tomlinson,” I started, “I want to say a lot of things to you, but I'm not good at saying them. Not good at it like you are, anyway.”

  
He rolled me onto my side and fed his legs through mine, one hand holding fast to my hip and the other one cupping my cheek. He kissed me softly before he asked me to continue.

  
“I think that most of the time I do a really bad job with you,” his mouth opened to protest but I shushed his words. “What I mean is that I feel like I owe things to people who used to know me. Some of those people aren't even alive, so I can't really owe them much, but I have a hard time seeing that. I feel guilt that I can't really put into words. It kind of just looms over me all the time and I want to be better, I want to be more for you. I want to give you everything that you give me because, even though I never say it, not in the right way, you've honestly given me so much.”

  
His blue eyes didn't leave mine for a second and I softly slid my palm along his jaw and felt him hook his ankle around mine our bodies were already so close, but he pressed closer still and softly at first, without the sexual tension that normally commanded our kisses, Louis kissed me. He kissed me differently, like nothing he'd done before. It was urgent, yes, he pried my mouth open, yes, but it wasn't like normal. He didn't just want to fuck me, he wanted to love me and show me that he cared. I matched his urgency because, fuck, I loved him. I loved him and instead of the world crumbling around me, I felt like a Disney princess or something. Like if just been kissed out of a coma and everything in the world finally made sense.

  
But at the same time, nothing made sense. Tidal waves ripped through my chest and I felt so full and yet so empty at the same time. The more he kissed me, the more the world made sense. The more I realized that there wasn't a place I wanted to be instead of right there in his arms. I didn't want to be in the past. I didn't want to be with Ronnie instead. It was Louis. Just Louis. Nothing else in the world could contest with that moment.

  
He pulled away from me and I wanted to cry. I wanted to run. I wanted to jump him and hold him and fuck him and ride him until my sweat leaked his name from every single one of my pores.

  
And oh my god. I was so fucking in love with him.

  
“Louis,” I said and I felt tears falling from my eyes. Why was I always crying around him? Why couldn't I just hold it together? I leaned in and pecked his face desperately. His cheekbones, because no skeleton should have a right to be so bloody flawless. His eyelids because they housed blue diamonds that made me grateful for having vision. His nose, his temples, the hollow between his neck and jaw. His forehead, the crinkles by his eyes.

  
“Harry,” he said, and his voice was raspy with questions and suggestions and I wanted to open him up and kiss his vocal chords too.

  
“I don't want to be your friend, Louis.” I mumbled because I sucked at words and Louis was poetry and he deserved someone who could write him sonnets and novels about the curvature of his spine and the taste of his sweat. I wanted him to have it all, to have all the shitty words that were inside of me because they were all for him, anyway, weren't they?

  
“Are you dumping me?” He mumbled against my lips as I rubbed them softly against his, just memorizing how well they fit together.

  
“Can't,” I said, my thigh wedged against his crotch, his breath hitched for a split second and my hands trailed across the soft, smooth expanse of his stomach and hhips. My hands were both now working on opening his jeans and I was thankful that my hands had more sense than my blabbering mouth that never seemed to know what to say or how to say it.

  
“See,” I said, rolling him back onto his back and supporting myself with just one elbow, my other hand working to free him from his underwear. His breaths were hectic now and his eyes didn't open quite as wide. “I've kind of been a stunned idiot this whole time, I never proper asked you out, like,” my hand grazed slowly down his shaft and his hand went to the back of my head and pulled me in for a bruising kiss. His bit down on my lip as I continued working him up and down.

  
“And it's not like I made it easy for you to ask,” I shimmed down to the end of the bed and placed my knees on the ground. I pulled the ankles of his pants then and then flung them across the room. “I suppose why I'm trying to say here,” the words swirled around the room as I spoke slowly. I grabbed Louis behind the knees and yanked his body to the end of the bed until his hard, eager, dripping cock was directly in my line of vision, “is that,” I licked from the base to the tip in one swift motion, “being called your boyfriend isn't the hardest thing to get used to,” the words flooded out of my mouth. His hands wrapped around my hair and I happily let him guide me up and down his cock, letting so many realizations linger in the air between us.

  
Firstly, I was in love with Louis. It was big and heavy and in my face. It swirled in the pit of my stomach, both keeping me ill at ease and warm and safe at the same time. Secondly, I'd just admitted, not just to Niall or Gemma or someone insignificant, but to Louis himself that I wanted it. That I wanted everything that came along with him, including titles that I'd once reserved for one person.

  
Lastly, I didn't care. I didn't fucking care about any of it, because _Louis_. Because Louis was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Because I could face the storm with him instead of trying to out-run it on my own like I had for years.

  
And I really meant it—backlash be damned. I wanted to be Louis boyfriend. I wanted to scream from rooftops and change my Facebook status and tell my grandmother.

  
Louis made every bit of my darkness bright again. He made the world around me make sense in ways that even Niall was never able to touch.

  
Moment as later, he came in my mouth and I looked up at him, his sweat making his hair stick to his forehead and his eyelids heavy like they always got when he was turned on. I joined him again on the bed. I pressed pur bodies together again, he leaned into me and his tongue danced in my mouth and it was really fucking brilliant. Brilliant that we were here in this moment and I hadn't yet ruined it. Even though my words were sparse and misshapen and far from perfection, they hadn't brought the world crashing down.

  
“Thank you,” he said, now pressing kisses against my neck and jaw, “but you don't have to use sex to get the things you want, you know you've got me wrapped around your finger.”

  
I laughed as I felt the goosebumps rising along my neck, “you've given me all the things I didn't know I wanted. You take care of me and you've literally never asked me for a single thing in return, and I just don't know why I would lie to myself for another second. I want you because you're good for me, you make me want to be alive and living in the present. You see the good things and I just want this.” I put my hand over his heart.

  
We were both quiet for a moment, moving slowly under the covers. Louis wrapped his body around mine, spooning me softly and placing his face right into my mess of curls. Sleep tugged at all corners of my brain and I didn't feel fear. My dreams hadn't been controlling me. I wanted to sleep, to feel Louis pressed against me.

  
“Harry?” He said softly, unsure if I was still awake.

  
“Lou?” My voice was heavy and tired.

  
“Yes,” was the only word he said as his right hand slid under my shirt and rested against my butterfly tattoo.

  
“Yes what?”

  
“Yes, you can tell people you're my boyfriend,”

  
I laughed lightly as his hand wandered inside of my pants, stirring up all kinds of non-sleepy feelings.

  
“Thanks,” I said, turning around to kiss him softly, “you're pretty good at the boyfriend stuff,”

  
His lips were at my ear, “I solemnly swear that as long as you'll have me, I'll never disappoint on the sleepy handjob front,” he said, stroking me softly. I pushed my ass against him, grinding into his surprising stiffness. “And Harry?”

  
“Lewis,” I said through my teeth as his thumb stroked my split.

  
“You give me all the things I want too,”

  
And again the air felt empty. Like Louis wasn't filling it with enough words.  
I let it slide again this time as I felt his teeth on my neck and his hand on my cock. I was content. There was no need to unload every unsaid word that lived between us. I'd unpacked enough for that day. The rest could wait. 


	22. Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I've been working on this chapter for weeks. Then, in light of recent events, I felt it was only fitting to finally finish it since this is a chapter where Louis gets to really be with his mum. Most of this, save for the end conversation with his mum, was written long ago but I didn't like it because it wasn't pretty and polished, but finally, with the new song, I found the motivation to polish it and post it.
> 
> It goes without saying: song inspiration for this chapter was Just Hold On by Louis and Steve Aoki
> 
> RIP Johannah

Louis 

 

It was Saturday night, and after long day involving a birthday party filled with toddlers and screaming meltdowns, mum and Daniel had reasonably snuck off for a date night. Fizzy was gone to the cinema and Lottie was out with her friends. That left Harry and I in charge of two sets of twins. Ernie and Doris were long asleep, which gave me a chance to shower and clear my mind. 

Being home was hectic to say the least. I hadn't had much time to process the conversation I'd had with Harry the previous night. Of course, it was a lot to process. It had come, literally, out of nowhere. Of all the things I'd expected Harry to tell me, especially after the meltdowns I'd witnessed involving him and that word, it was honestly at the very bottom of the list. He had spent ages trying to avoid anything that might be tied to that word. There was a lightness in my chest as I thought about it all. 

I felt… Good. But it was also suspicious because everything I knew about Harry led me to believe that it was too good to be true, and I hated myself for even thinking it. I hated that I was questioning the weight of his words and the gravity of them in my life. So, now, after all this time and the waiting and the questions, I was just supposed to believe the Harry was my boyfriend? That I was allowed to introduce him like that? I was supposed to be able to put my faith in the truth behind the words and not expect him to recoil the next time he heard them out loud.  

But, God, it was _good_. 

It was so good, and he cared about me. He cared about me more than I'd expected. More than he'd ever expected to care about someone else. I don't know what it was about me, or what it was about him, but we fit. It was easy, it was light and smooth and seamless. The transition to having him in my life had been effortless.  

It was easy to fall asleep next to him. To wake up next to him (and, no, not just because of his affinity for waking me up with blowjobs—but that did make it pretty simple). Harry. Harry styles woke up with thoughts of me and it was pretty okay to exist in a world where that was a thing.  

It was just so _easy_. So easy to get used to him. To seeing him in my flat, in my bed and with our friends. Looking across my car and seeing him smiling back at me? Yeah… It was a thing. He was blending into my family, into my job, into the songs I wrote and the bands I shaped. Every breath I exhaled tasted sweeter because Harry was there. He was in every corner of my life and it was just so _simple_.  

And, okay, against every odd in the universe, against every warning Liam had graciously given me and every warning Harry himself had given me, he was my boyfriend. By his own choice. I didn't have to convince him. He was my significant other and, really, it felt a lot more than just ‘significant’. There wasn't really a word to describe the way the whole universe seemed to have finally clicked together.  

 ...

I wandered back downstairs, my hair still damp, to search for Harry. On the couch was a sight that made my heart literally skip a beat. On one side of Harry, sat phoebe, her eyes glued to the TV where she was watching The Vampire Diaries rather intently. She shared a blanket with Harry, who was sitting on the middle cushion fast asleep, with Daisy’s head on his lap. Harry looked so… Domestic. So comfortable. Every other situation I'd seen him in he'd seemed so pretty, yet so detached, always afraid to let himself feel things. But in the moment, he seemed so genuine. He was just Harry. Harry stripped away from all the fashionable clothes, all the comforts he hid behind and his walls were totally down and he just let himself feel at home. He just sat there, surrounded by my sisters and looking more comfortable than even I felt in my own house. It wasn't just me. Everyone saw it. How could a single person in possession of a heart do anything other than love Harry? 

There was no way I could not love that boy. There was no way to reverse it. To make it any less apparent. I loved Harry and I had to do everything I could to make sure that he never felt anything less.  

Phoebe looked up at me and smiled. I put my finger over my mouth, signalling her to be quiet and gestured to Daisy and Harry. She nodded as I made my way over to her. She pressed herself into the arm of the couch, making room between Harry and herself. I squeezed myself in and hooked an arm around Harry's back, holding his hip and nuzzled my face into the place between his shoulder and neck. I lifted my other arm, so phoebe could snuggle into my side.  

We both fell asleep quickly and it was nearly one in the morning before we woke up to Manny’s barking. Daniel and Mum walked in and I stirred, nuzzling my face closer into Harry's chest. My neck was stiff and I was wretchedly uncomfortable, but obviously, moving was not an option. It was adorable to be all snuggled up on the couch with my sisters and Harry.  

Up until this trip, Harry had been like a dream. Like the fantasy boy I'd made up all on my own and could never possibly have, not in this sort of real and tangible way. But, against his own words, here was Harry, in the middle of my mum’s house, snuggled on the couch with me and my sisters, his confessions regarding the usage of previously forbidden words, barely 24 hours old.  

Everything was as it should be. 

He moved against me, his eyes were heavy and alluring in ways that caused me physical pain. “You and Daisy drooled all over me,” he mumbled lightly. 

I lifted my head from his shoulder, an apology on my lips for unceremoniously covering his jumper in drool (covering his cock in saliva was irresistible—covering his sweater? Maybe not so flattering—duly noted). 

Quickly, as Dan appeared in the door way, he pressed my head back down, “stay,” he said softly. 

Fuck, this Harry was so different. So perfect and enchanting and every time he reached out to let me know he wanted me close, it was equally charming and flattering as it was sexy and unexpected.  

“I see you both opted to check out the Doncaster night life,” noted Dan.

My mum came up behind him, “looks like Lou is remembering that babysitting isn't as easy as it was before the babies.” 

“Harry started it,” I muttered, squeezing his hip where my hand still was (and, yeah, it was asleep, and, no, I wasn't interested in moving it—like ever). 

“Why don't you boys send the girls up to bed and come have a drink with Dan and I?” Asked my mom with a smile on her face as she looked down at sleepy Harry. (My hypothesis was correct—everyone in the universe knew how fucking magical Harry was). 

I lifted my head off of Harry again, “what do you think, Harold?” 

He smiled at me, literally like I was the only person on the planet, and for about the 500th time, I was reminded that there was really no going back. I was gone for Harry in ways I honestly didn't think I could ever have been gone for someone. He nodded at me, and actually reached out to wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth. My heart did backflips. Somersaults. Fuck. It joined Cirque Du Soleil and had basically mastered the art of gymnastics.  

 ...

 

Once the task of waking up two salty 12 year olds and forcing them to brush their teeth was completed, Harry and I joined mum and Dan at the kitchen table. Harry had his hand on my knee and all I could really process was the feeling of heat it sent through my whole body. Being Harry's boyfriend was akin to a second puberty. My body was in an exhausting and near constant state of desire for Harry's skin. 

I was quiet. Mum did most of the talking and Harry sat watching her, hanging on every single word and laughing at all the appropriate times.  

“I'd like to imagine I raised a proper gentleman,” mused mum. 

Harry nodded quickly, “maybe not a ‘proper gentleman’” he used his fingers to quote the words and I was on the verge of elbowing him before his next words spilled out, “but he is the best person I've ever known--honestly.” 

Everything Harry said was huge, the gravity of his speeches always crushing everything around them, but recently? Recently I was quite literally dangling from them, his vocal chords acting as bungee chords and I was really quite the dare-devil. 

Harry must have just then noticed that I was there next to him and that he'd just said those words to my mum and not just in his head. He stared down at his empty wine glass and his cheeks flamed with a blush.  

“He's a liar, you know, Mum,” I dove into the conversation to give him a moment to recover. 

“Am not,” he played along, catching my cue. 

“He is, because he has, in fact, met himself. Which sounds stupid and cheesy, but Curly-boy here is twice the man I could ever be.” 

My mum’s smile was ear to ear as she watched our exchange, “just so you know Harry, Louis has honestly never brought someone home. I've never seen him like this. All I get to see is sarcastic, non-chalant big brother Louis. This is different.” 

Now, I felt myself blushing too, as Harry looked over at me, grinning at my discomfort. 

“Some may say I have a biased opinion, but I do quite honestly think you're probably right about Louis. He was the dream child," my mum bragged and, okay, this was new. She never usually went on like this. "He was smart and funny and he held the whole family together, you know? Louis was always my sanity," 

"Muuuum," I practically whined, getting out of my seat to give her a proper hug. She kissed my cheek and held me tightly against her.  

"I'd say you're lucky, Harry. Louis knows how to take care of people. I know his sisters think the world of him," 

"Mum, would you stop?" I joked, "how much have you had to drink?" 

"Drunk words are sober thoughts," Dan piped up.  

"Besides, you've never brought a boy home, I've never had some one to properly say these things to," 

"And I don't mind," said Harry softly. 

"And what about you Harry? I'm sure your mum would be the same," 

Harry shrugged, no doubt stifling horrible words about himself. I internally thanked him for that, because his awful habit of self depreciation was skewed and horrible to listen to.  

"So, what do you do, Harry?" Dan's voice was soft and I thanked him for taking the conversation to a safer place.  

"Photography," he was so soft in his words tonight. I reached for his knee under the table.  

"He's brilliant," I boasted, "he does a lot of weddings, but his work is really a lot more than that. Just had him in a couple of weeks ago to do a shoot for one of the bands in the studio," 

Mum smiled at Harry and I saw the admiration sparkling in her eyes.  

Soon, the conversation became more comfortable. Daniel had Harry laughing about the first time I'd met him and my interrogations about his intentions with my mother. Mum started talking about their wedding and telling Harry about her wedding dress and how happy she was to have met a younger man, because she thought she'd never be done wanting babies. 

Soon, of course, my mum turned on me and made it her mission to embarrass me. She pulled out her “Louis” photo album (which also housed a stack of my report cards) and she told him about all the dumb things I'd done in my childhood.  

“And this is him as Danny in grease,” said my mom, pointing to a picture of 14 year old me with sprayed on black hair and pleather pants.  

Harry snorted a laugh and looked over at me, raking his hand through my hair, “why don't you do your hair like this anymore?” He teased. 

“Listen here, Harold Styles, I won against at least 10 other boys who were much older than me to get this part, and that's something I continue to be proud of,” 

My mum turned the page and showed him a picture of me on stage in my school, playing piano, next to it was one of me and my best mate singing together. 

“Louis won the talent show every year he was in school,” 

Harry's gaze darted back over to me, “you said you didn't like to sing,” 

I shrugged, “I'd much rather hear someone else sing my songs,” and it was true. Performing was something I'd grown out of. Now I was much more comfortable out of the spotlight. “Harry's a fantastic singer,” 

My mom smiled brightly, “sing something!”  

Harry's face flamed and he shook his head slowly, “I'm more into singing in the car and shower—not seriously.” 

“It's a crime, really,” I noted, taking his hand in mine. 

 ...

 

Once the bottle of wine had disappeared, mum and Dan announced they were ready for bed. Harry nodded his agreement and punctuated it with a huge yawn. We went back up to Daisy’s room and Harry snuggled under the covers quickly, staring at me while I got changed.  

“Harold?” 

“Lou,” 

“My family loves you,” 

Harry smiled like it was a real surprise for him, “I really like them,” 

“They'll never let me come back without you,” 

He smiled brightly, “I'd be okay with that.” 

I watched him for a moment, “my sister has a crush on you, you know?”  

Harry laughed at that, “which one?” 

“Now, what kind of brother would I be if I answered that?” 

“I bet it's Doris,” 

I joined him in the bed, laughing and pulling him against my chest, “thanks for coming with me, Harry, I know it wasn't easy for you,” 

His arms wrapped around me and he snuggled his face into my chest, “I didn't think it would be easy, but I was wrong.” Harry was so open and warm this weekend. It shook me to my core because I just wanted to shove words everywhere to let him know it was safe to be like this. That I would always make sure he was safe.  

“I…” He said suddenly, not sure what else he wanted to say. He paused a moment and looked up at me. “I don't know how to say what I want to say,” 

“That's okay,” I told him, because I liked to believe I was a master at reading between the lines with Harry, “you can say whatever you want with me Harry, you know that.” 

He nodded slowly, “I just—I really want you to know how I feel,” 

I would die, literally _die_  if Harry loved me. I mean, parts of me felt like he did, but parts of me also worried maybe he couldn't. Maybe he would never be able to love passed his loss, and that maybe I couldn't be enough for him. But I loved him, and I'd never loved someone before him. I knew that now. It had all just been infatuation, lust, recklessness, but Harry? Harry made the world art, every word he said was a song waiting to be written. I scrambled to keep up. Everything was different, better, because he was niall's best friend and he'd shown up that night I was playing scrabble with Liam.  

“Since—since everything happened with Ronnie, I've only ever trusted one person and that was Niall. He got me through most of it, you know? I never thought I could ever feel more for someone else than I feel for Niall. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me and he restored my faith in the world—but Louis, I think you might be the most _important_ thing that's ever happened to me.” 

His head was on my chest and he looked up to me through his lashes like he wasn't certain of how I would react to his words. Like there was a question of whether or not I would ever feel the same. He was so blind. 

I tilted his chin up and kissed his lips softly, “Harry, you are, hands down, the most important thing in my life,” 

“I just feel like, like I never give you enough, like my life is full of secrets I never expected to tell someone else, but I really just want you to see it all. I want you to have everything so you can decide if it's too much,” 

“Harry,” I began and I knew he knew that I was just going to tell him he wasn't too much and that I'd be able to handle anything he threw at me. 

“The point is,” he said, cutting me off, “is that you don't know everything but you brought me here and you're always showing me everything about you and I'm always so scared,” 

“Harry, it's okay. I want to show you those things. I don't expect anything,” 

“I know that,” he held onto me a bit tighter and kissed my collarbone softly.  

I kept looking down at him. The air was full of all the things neither of us were saying. There was something heavy and serious inside of Harry that he wanted to get out, but I didn't push. I'd learned early on that Harry didn't want to be pushed. He was more than willing to be honest with me these days, he just needed to be comfortable. I still couldn't think of what it was I'd done in my life to deserve Harry, but it was real. It was real every single day and he gave more and more despite every reservation he had. 

I pushed his long hair out of he eyes and watched him watch me. Nothing in the world could be as close to the perfection of him.  

“Holmes Chapel was a really small place to grow up,” he said suddenly. “And for most of my life, I went to school with the same kids. My best friend was always Tessa. She was great. She was sweet and funny and she’d give hell to anyone who teased me.” 

I didn't know what was happening, where this story was coming from. I hadn't heard a single mention of Tessa before that moment.  

“We used to play together after school and Gemma and her would let me design dresses for them out of sheets and towels. We were always close, but I never went over to her house much because she liked my place better. She had a brother, and I'd met him a few times, but he didn't go to school. He was homeschooled and like a super genius or something, so I never thought much of it. 

"Then when we were like 13 or so we started hanging out at her place more. I don't really know why, but we spent all our free time in her basement, playing video games and doing homework. I started to see more of her brother then. They were twins. They were so much alike that we clicked instantly, but he was like, insanely beautiful. I remember thinking that right off the bat. Of course, Tess was beautiful too, but it never mattered to me, not in the way that her brother did. I guess that was around the time I realized I was gay. 

"One night, I was sleeping over there and Tess fell asleep and he and I just started making out, for like hours,” Harry laughed then, the memory obviously a pleasant one for him. I stayed quiet and waited for his next words. 

“And then, there just wasn't any going back after that, we were just a thing. Just a sure thing that I never thought would change. He told me he loved me on my fourteenth birthday and everything seemed so perfect. 

“I guess now, looking back on it, I missed a lot of things. He was different. Different from Tess because he'd never gone to school. He'd never been happy before me. I never considered it. It was all so perfect but I was so young and so oblivious, I didn't see he was in pain.” 

Harry buried his face in my chest and breathed deeply, clearly finding this story difficult to get through. 

“for years I thought everything was okay. For years I thought that I was enough to hold him together.” Harry sighed deeply, “but for Ronnie it was never really that easy. He hid it so well, but I don't think he'd ever really been happy. Maybe he loved me, or whatever, but it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough.” 

Oh, _shit_ , Harry was telling me everything. Every insecurity he had stemmed from this story. Every experience he had with love, or the word boyfriend, it was all tainted by whatever darkness lived at the end of this story and I was horrified to listen to the rest. I wanted Harry to be whole and to be able to hold him together, but I couldn't take it away. I couldn't make this story less horrible. This defined him as a person, and I'd honestly never expected to have him lay it out for me.  

But Harry didn't get it. He was enough. He was more, more than anything I'd ever had before him. He should have been enough. He shouldn't ever feel less than enough. 

“It happened when we were 17. I was working at the bakery. He called me crying and it wasn't the first time, so maybe I didn't get it, I didn't understand how bad it was. The amount of times he'd told me he wanted to die—I just, I just didn't get it. I didn't realize this was for real. He begged me to get there. He said he couldn't get the sadness out, that he needed me. I was crying right there in the middle of the bakery and Barbra was telling me to leave, but I was just kind of frozen. I wasn't reacting right. It took me nearly five minutes on the phone before I realized I had to go. I had to get there. I had to get to him because he was really thinking about doing it. He told me he wanted to die, that it was the only way to get rid of the sadness.” 

Harry was looking up at me again, his eyes sparkling with tears as he relived the most horrible moments of his life.  

“I started running then, he was still on the phone with me, telling me no matter what that he loved me. He asked me to promise him all these things, and I was just kid, you know? I didn't get it. I had no idea they were going to be the last things I'd say to him,” 

He pressed his body closer to me then, “he made me promise that no matter what, that iI would always love him. That it would only be him. That we were forever. I promised him I'd never love someone the way I loved him.” Harry inhaled deeply, “and I was still running, still trying to get there as fast as I could because it was real. He really wanted to die and he was begging me. Begging me to get there and rescue him.” 

I felt every bit of pain between Harry's words. I tried to imagine Harry as a teenager, desperately running across town to save someone's life. Someone he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Poor Harry had taken that phone call and it had changed the entire course of his life.  

“And then I got there, I could see his house but he hung up the phone. I just kept calling him and he wouldn't answer,” I realized now that tears were literally pouring from his eyes as he relived this moment. I felt tears burning in my own eyes.  

“I tried to get inside but all the doors were locked and I was just outside screaming for him. I couldn't get in and he wouldn't answer the phone. I called his mum at work and she was bawling on the phone with me and I didn't know what to say so I just screamed for her to get there and it took so long. It took so long for her to get there and I called the police and they got there at the same time as his mum and she unlocked the door and we were flying up the stairs together and it was too late. I knew as soon as he hung up the phone that it was all too late.  

"We got into his room and he was there, hanging. His body was all limp and his mum was hysterical and I grabbed him, and he was still warm. If I could have been faster—“ 

The room was dead silent then, and I realized there were tears falling from my eyes. Harry was sobbing. His face was buried in my chest and he was gasping with sobs and trying so hard to hold it together and just finish his story. 

“Nothing was the same after that. It all happened so fast. The coroner came and took him away and it was just his mum and me curled up on the floor, just crying and holding each other. Tessa came home and found us like that. Everything just rushed by. Tessa was so strong, for all of us, she did everything for the funeral. I'd never even been to a funeral before that, and there I was, having to go to bury the boyfriend I'd failed. He asked for my help and I didn't help him and he was dead.” 

I was about to say something then, but Harry's words cut through the room. 

“Tessa killed herself in the bathtub 5 weeks later. I lost them both and I know it wasn’t my fault. I've listened to therapists, their mother, my mother, Niall, Gemma, _everyone_ telling me that for years, but I could have stopped it and I didn't. I lost them both because I didn't do anything.” 

Holy fuck. Here it was. The whole story about the trauma Harry had lived through. I'd never even seen a real dead person and Harry had held one. Had buried two of the people he loved the most in the world, and here I was afraid to tell him how I felt. I was selfish and stupid and Harry had been through so much already. Nothing could hurt him. Not after everything. Maybe all he needed was to be loved. Everything made so much sense now.  

“Harry,” I said, wiping the tears from his eyes.  

He breathed heavily, gasping for a breath to say something more. I just kept stroking his face, wiping the new tears as they fell.  

“So, the point is, Louis, you weren't supposed to happen,”  

God, my ribcage hurt. My heart lurched in my chest and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I felt stupid and foolish and like the smallest most insignificant thing on the planet. 

“But you happened,” he breathed deeply, sniffling and trying to hold back more tears, “and I never thought in a million years that you would. I never thought I'd be ready, and I'm not, but I'm starting now to realize that it doesn't matter. You have made everything in my life better. I've spent years trying to avoid being hurt again and then you showed up and you had all this power over me, because you could break me and it took me too long to realize that you wouldn't do that. You've made me better, braver and I—I owe you so much because you never saw me as the broken boy I've always been. You just saw me as a person. An equal.” 

Harry's whole speech might have out number every word he'd previously said since the day I met him. I smiled at him—and shit, was that insensitive? He'd just told me all about Ronnie and I was grinning like I'd won the lottery.  

But I had, hadn't I? What greater prize was there in the world that the company of Harry Styles? I loved him and I wanted so badly to just pour the confessions into the darkness of the bedroom and hold him while he cried. But the last person who had loved him had ripped apart his entire psyche. He had destroyed every dream Harry had. Had torn down every ounce of trust Harry had inside of him.  

“I'm sorry,” I said softly, “I know it's just stupid worthless words you've heard thousands of times, but I really am. I'm sorry you had to go through that,” 

“For a long time I wanted to die too.” He said it as a matter of fact and it ached inside of me, “but I stuck it out and it did get better.” His hands gripped my shirt tightly in his fists, “You make everything better and I've never felt more afraid of anything in my life. Of course I want it to be better, but you could break it all so easily and I don't want to give you that power. I want to be stronger than that,"

  
Harry had a way with words. By that I meant a way of simultaneously making me feel like total garbage and like the luckiest person in the world.

  
"I don't know if I should be pleased or offended by that comment."

  
His eyes were heavy and serious, "Please don't break my heart Louis,"

  
He sounded like he was begging. Like he had no idea that breaking his heart was at the very top of my list of things I ever wanted to do.

  
"I should ask you the same," I muttered.

  
He didn't say anything. His words rang in my ears and I wanted to say a million things. I wanted to kiss him and tell him and make him feel my love, because if anyone on earth deserved to be loved, it was him. And it's not like there was a choice; I could either keep quiet about it or fill him with it, but either way it would be there, I couldn't just reverse it. I would probably live the rest of my life shadowed with the fact that I loved Harry Styles. I could be fearful of it, or I could just accept that nothing on earth could reverse it. I was done for everyone else, and the reality was, whether or not Harry could or did or maybe didn't love me, I was gone for him and he deserved to know. I mean, every second of every day I spent with him I felt it more and more and it was good. Just so fucking good and worth more than every other thing I'd been given.

  
"Harry, I get it. I get that you're scared and that everything for you has been really messed up, and it's not fair. You deserve better. You deserve to see the good in things and I wish I could change what you went through, but I can't," I sighed, "I know that you don't believe me just yet, but I swear to you I would never do anything to hurt you, and I think that somewhere in that gorgeous head of yours, you know that."

  
He was quiet for a long time. He still held me tightly, but the desperation had left the gesture. Now he was contemplative.

  
"I'm inclined to believe you."

  
His words held a finality to them. Like realizing I'd never hurt him and that maybe we could really work, really be together and really have a future, was one of the worst things he'd ever heard, and I swear if I didn't understand him and love every foolish ounce of him, I would have been offended.

  
"Of course you believe me, Harold, I haven't given you a single reason to doubt me."

  
"Well, you did write that awful song," he joked and I knew that he was okay. That we were okay.

  
"I literally just heard you singing it in the shower the other day. You're a horrible liar, you know that?"

  
He laughed and the more he spoke, the more I felt our banter pulling him out of his darkness. "Just because it's catchy doesn't mean it's good."

  
"You're a brat," I said, tilting his chin up to my face and kissing him fiercely.

  
"But I'm your brat," he said, leaning back in to kiss me again. Yeah, he was everything. Every single word he said made my heart do tricks. I'd probably never love another human being more than this foolish, perfect mess.

  
At first, he laughed into the kiss and our smiles knocked against each other. The whole room felt warm and safe. Harry kissed me slowly, nibbling softly at my bottom lip. My hands, as they naturally did, migrated to grasp his curls. He sighed into me and was on top of me suddenly, tugging at bits of my clothing, of his clothing and tossing them across the room.  
His mouth was on my neck, my collar bones and his teeth left impressions in my skin that I didn't ever want to leave, because every part of my insides were marked from Harry. I wanted the world to see that I was nothing but his. He was everything.

  
The heat and intensity that lived between us was always there. There was always a slow burn in my stomach thinking of Harry's skin, his lips, being inside of him. But there were moments like this, where the room caught fire. Where there was nothing but us in the world, everything moving hot and fast. His lips on my lips, his sweat mixing with mine. The very definition of desire being rewritten as his tongue reignited the fires that burned only for him. Everything was Harry.

  
Everything was always a blur--I never had time to think when the fire burned. Embers of desire glowed and crackled inside of my belly as I pushed into his tightness. I'd never felt things like Harry made me feel them. I wanted to cry, to laugh to scream and sew him to me so he could never leave. So that we could exist as a single entity because I couldn't imagine there was a better place to be than him. Harry was it. He was the start, the climax the ending. Life before him had just been a warm up. A dress rehearsal so that I was ready for the real show. Because the greatest performance I would ever give would undoubtedly be loving him completely. Loving him perfectly and without restrictions or regrets.

...

After we fucked, we cuddled, like a proper couple, and Harry fell asleep in my arms. His breathing was light and his muscles were all relaxed against me. The first few times I'd seen Harry sleep, that level of relaxation had not existed. He'd slept restlessly and ridged next to me. Harry had changed my whole world and made me re-evaluate the true meaning of gratefulness, but I'd changed him too. He was quiet and scared, but it had been weeks since he'd slept without me. Weeks since he'd made his own cup of tea because he always insisted I made it better. He was different and happy and open, and dammit, I was proud of that. I would give anything to have him admit those things, but at the very least, I felt them. I was under his skin. I could work on the rest. I could wait it out.

  
Suddenly, Harry's phone started to ring loudly from the end table. Immediately I felt him stir against me, so I quickly reached across him to silence the forsaken object. I snatched it quickly and saw Niall’s name flash across the screen. I pressed “decline” and after his name and the picture of Harry and Niall disappeared from the screen, I saw something I didn't expect to see in a million, maybe a trillion years. Harry's lock screen was set to a picture of me fast asleep in my flat. My hair was messy and the blankets were piled all around me (never _on_ me because Harry hogged the shit out of the bloody things). The picture faded off the screen and I quickly pressed the home button again, not quite ready to let go of this moment, and it was so small, such a normal gesture and something probably every couple in the world did, but Harry and I were not every couple in the world. It was vastly different than that. This was huge. Harry had done this, had let me into his private spaces. Spaces were he likely previously only had pictures of Niall and Ronnie. Everything was good and nothing was pain. My life was perfect, wonderful and Harry cared about me.

  
He hadn't opened his eyes at all, willing to let me ignore all of his phone calls so that he could peacefully sleep next to me. He rolled over and nuzzled his perfect face into my chest and I dropped his phone onto my nightstand and started showering his entire face with tiny kisses. My chest felt like a waterfall full of fluffy, snuggly emotions that I thought only existed for puppies and kittens. Harry smiled against me, giggling softly as I covered every inch of his face with kisses.

  
“Saw my phone?” His voice was thick with sleep and comfort and he didn't care. Wasn't scared that I'd peered into him. That I'd seen his feelings.

  
“You're the best, sweetest boy in the world,”

  
“Don't go overboard Boo Bear,” his lips found my neck and I held him tightly against me.

  
“But I'm flattered. Little old me is your wallpaper,”

  
“Not creepy?” He clarified.

  
“Not creepy, just sweet and romantic and kind of beautiful,”

  
Again, he nuzzled closer into my chest, “yes you are,”

  
I pinched his cheek, “Harold,” I whined, my voice full of fondness I didn't know how to express. My chest literally was about to burst because no human body was meant to hold in so many feelings.

  
“Louis,”

  
“I'm just—you took pictures of me when I was a drooling unconscious, freezing mess,”

  
“Freezing?” He sounded like he was nearly back to sleep.

  
“You are a relentless blanket thief,”

  
A soft chuckle, “you're always beautiful, but best part of being an artist is that I see beauty in all situations,”

  
I was caught in a tidal wave, “and that's just one of the reasons I love you,”

  
As soon as the words left my mouth regret was instant. Harry stiffened against me and I felt him pull back to look at me. Fear blazed in his eyes and he looked at me like I'd just told him I was Jack the Ripper. That wasn't born on planet earth or that I firmly believed in the illuminati. He was very much not asleep any more. His mouth gaped open and for a second he stared at me without speaking and then he just rolled over and there was maybe 6 centimetres between us that had never been there before. 6 centimetres might as well have been 6 solar systems because his body language screamed things to me that he wasn't saying. God, I'd fucked up. I'd just been constantly turning the words over in my head for ages. Being in love with Harry was natural and easy and it occupied my thoughts almost exclusively and I suppose it wasn't the surprising that I'd let it slip out so casually.

  
Basically, I'd ruined a perfect moment. I'd backed Harry into a corner that he was clearly trying to avoid, but surely he'd known? Surely he'd felt the emotions inside of me. They were obvious.

  
I had options here. First, I could keep quiet. I could accept those six solar systems and give him all the space he wanted until he forgave me or just gave up entirely. That would have been the easiest, because Harry really was like a timid, frightened animal and would probably just interpret whatever I said wrong anyway.

  
Second, I could be a coward and apologize. I should slink away from the truth behind my words and let him believe I'd just said it wrong. Let him make whatever excuses were appropriate and maybe wait the rest of my life to hear him say it first.

  
Lastly, I could just own up to it. It wasn't untrue, and yeah, it was a bit scary being perched on the end of a limb when you can never be quite sure the person you're perching for would even be willing to catch you. But fuck it, I was who I was and years ago I'd resolved to never make excuses for who I was. I was Louis Tomlinson, gay song writer and proud mama’s boy me I was head over heels in love with Harry and there was simply no point to excuse it.

  
“Oh for Christ sake, Harry,” I said in one long exhale. “I don't know what you want me to do. I obviously didn't mean to say it like that, but it's the damn truth okay?” Six centimetres turned into 8 or 10 as he lifted his knees and wrapped his arms around himself. “I'm sorry if it's inconvenient or scary but that's what love is, okay? It's just there, and I'm not the kind of person to make excuses for how I feel and I feel a lot of things when it comes to you.” He still wasn't looking at me and maybe the more I spoke the more I was fucking up, but Harry deserved to be openly worshipped and praised and loved every second of the day by every person in the entire UK.

  
“Harry?”

  
Or course he didn't say anything, and I just stared at the space between us. It just kept getting bigger and bigger the more I spoke and I wasn't fixing anything and I wanted to scream, but I knew that it probably wouldn't do any good.

  
“I'm sorry,” I tried, my hand was hovering in the air because there was a strand of his hair across his face and I fought with myself not to tuck it behind his ear because touching him right now might be the worst way to fix anything. “I'm sorry” I echoed myself, “because if I ever made you feel anything less than loved for a second I haven't been doing this right, because fuck it, Harry, I've been in love with you for ages. It's not like I can just make it go away or save it for when it's convenient for you, because you'd _never_ make it convenient. I want you to know, because like I told you before, I'm not a phoney, I'll never hold back from you because I want you to see everything.” I took a nervous breath, because love confessions weren't something I'd ever been particularly great at. It wasn't something I'd ever had much experience with, honestly, because I'd never felt something like this. I was pretty sure that no one had ever felt something like this.

  
“Harry, I can't help it. You're everything, okay? Of course I'd love you because you're fucking gorgeous and funny and silly. You saved a picture of me on your phone, you came to meet my family! Some part of you has to feel something for me. I don't care if you don't love me yet, or if you're not ready yet. I don't expect anything from you Harry, it's just a fact. I love you whether or not it makes sense to you.”

  
I'd filled up the silence with words yet again, the same as I always did, only this time it was shrouded in uncertainty because the more I spoke, the more certain I was that the gap between us had become the Grand Canyon.

  
Normally inside of me there was zero conflict. I always knew how I felt and I didn't question it because feelings were valid and meant to be felt and there was no point in excusing any of it, but today I was all conflict. I wanted to scream in frustration because I loved him and he didn't say it back and I didn't want to be human. I didn't want to hurt so deeply over that fact. I wanted to cry and let him see what he did to me. I wanted to weep uncontrollably because Harry didn't love me and there was no point to pretend the world wasn't ending. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him an itemized list of all the times he'd made my chest feel absent and worthless and make him feel what it was like to be in love with him. The aching emptiness of constantly being left to be the only one feeling and grasping at every small straw I saw and filling in all the blank spaces he left inside of me.

  
But there was nothing but silence. Nothing but him trying to will himself to be on another continent. I felt stupid and embarrassed the more the silence lingered. I'd made it all up, hadnt I? Every single moment I'd been so sure that Harry really felt things for me were probably some great construct I'd made in my mind. God, it hurt. I wanted to run so far away, jump in the bed with my mum and just hold her while I cried, but I just kept staring at the fucking gap between us. The gap that I kept fruitlessly tossing my ill-fated emotions into. No wonder it kept growing! What I'd confused for comfort, for mutual feelings had actually just been a cloud of my own feelings that I kept handing him and he kept tossing aside. He wouldn't take them, wouldn't take me.

  
I felt sick to my stomach because I was in love with a void.

  
Finally, I broke my trance, turning my body away from the Grand Canyon of misplaced feelings and I curled in on myself, feeling tears sting my eyes.

  
I felt very aware that this was probably going to be the last night I spent next to him and I hated myself. I hated that I couldn't pretend, that I couldn't hold him just for the sake of comforting myself and because I smehow knew it would be the last time.

  
My chest felt heavy and my stomach was sick and my eyes were watering and I was a fucking mess. I wished to be unconscious. I had nothing else in me to say. Nothing that was going to fix the mess I'd made.

  
I laid there for what felt like hours, listening to his breathing and wishing that the space between us wasn't 10 miles deep and that life came with a rewind button, because I'd literally ruined a perfect happy moment thoroughly and my life was probably never going to be the same. Love was hard. Harry was hard. I was foolish and naïve to believe that I'd figured him out. He was unsolvable.

...

It must have been hours that I laid next to him and cried silently. Maybe he'd fallen asleep, but even in sleep he hadn't closed the gap between us. He'd pulled away completely.

  
I got out of the bed and snuck downstairs to the kitchen. I saw light glowing out of the kitchen and at first I thought I wanted to be alone, but then I saw my mom sitting at the table drinking a glass of milk. She took one look at me and stood up, moving to pour me a glass as well. I sat at the table silently. She put the glass in front of me and I felt her arms wrap around my wilted shoulders. She kissed my head softly and I felt tears come harder now. She didn't ask any questions, just held me together. I was so happy I'd fucked up like this while I was home. Mum made it all feel so much better. I felt her kiss my forehead and I remembered all the moments I'd held her when she and my dad had been divorcing. I remembered all the times she'd told me I was her rock and all the times she had thanked me for holding her together. Suddenly I was standing and she wrapped me in her arms and she smelled like comfort and home and she didn't ask anything of me. She just let me cry on her and filled me full of her strength. She rocked me back and forth and rubbed the stress out of my shoulders.

  
Finally, I felt my voice rumble against her, “Harry doesn't love me and I love him so much and I didn't expect it to hurt so fucking bad.”

  
“Oh, Louis,” she said, kissing my forehead.

  
“I shouldn't have said it,”

  
“Love is complex,” she said slowly, “someone is always bound to be the first one to say it, and sometimes it feels like he'll never say it, but you don't know what he's feeling, Louis.”  
God damn my mother and her rationality.

  
“look,” she said, “there's no guarantee in life that people are going to feel the same as you. Things aren't mean to be easy, especially not when it comes to love, but you know what?” She held me back from her and stared into my eyes, “I've learned that there's no reason to give up entirely, because even if someone doesn't love you, tomorrow morning the sun is going to come up—no matter what. Even if things get sad and messy, the world is still going to turn, Louis. You don't close the book just because one chapter was less than enjoyable.” She kissed my cheek and pulled me back into her arms, “I don't know how Harry feels, so maybe you're right or maybe you're wrong, but just hold on, kiddo, okay? Because no matter what else happens, I'll always love you. You'll always be the glue in this family.”

...

Hours later, I tip-toed back into Daisy’s room and saw that Harry was still far on his side of the great divide, but I breathed deeply and took my place on my side of the rift. I curled into a ball, emptiness still permeating my chest. My side of the bed looked out toward the window and I stared as brightness began to slip through the night. I felt, just hours ago like the world was going to end that night, but just as mum said, the sun was coming up, despite everything. No matter what.

  
I sucked in air slowly and tried to steady myself enough to sleep a couple of hours before I had to face the world again. Things felt better somehow, after my mother’s words. I closed my eyes against the dawn’s slow assent. I wrapped my arms around my empty feeling torso and willed sleep to come quickly.

  
Just as the weight of sleep tugged at the back of my brain, I felt the mattress sink in and my body tilted against a warm body. My heart trilled in my chest very suddenly and I felt Harry's body wrap around me. His hand slid underneath my arms and broke my death grip around myself. I wasn't sure what was happening. Maybe he was still asleep and he'd forgotten what I said and there would be nothing but regret on his features when I saw him in the morning light, but I'd take it.

  
His lips pressed unexpectedly to the back of my neck, “I thought you wouldn't come back,”

  
I turned my body to face his and I kissed him slowly and desperately. He kissed me back with conviction and fear and unsteadiness and I tasted salt on his lips and I could see the redness in his eyes and I'd just fucking left him in the bed to cry alone. Scum. I felt like pond scum.

  
“I'll always come back,” I said as well fell into another long and slow kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting to the end-ish of this story. I'm anticipating maybe 4-5 more chapters and maybe an epilogue. If you've read this far--thank you. Things are starting to fall in place.


	23. Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came really fast. I like it for some reason. Let me know. 
> 
> Song inspo: Spaces by One Direction

Harry

I sat on the edge of Niall’s bed and swung my feet back and forth restlessly as I waited for him to enter the room. My head was a mess and I finally felt like talking about it and Niall was taking ages to sit down and listen to me. I could hear him out in the living room laughing with Liam and Zayn and I felt like a hurricane. I hadn't slept at all and my eyes were still burning from crying for most of the night. Finally Niall closed the door behind himself and raised a questioning eyebrow at me.

  
“Louis told me he loved me and I didn't say anything,” I blurted instantly.

  
Niall nodded slowly, “typical,”

  
I felt the storm inside of me knock me under the water. I was drowning in my feelings because the last thing in the world I'd wanted or expected was to be in love with Louis, and I was. I was sure that the whole world revolved around him and his simple, quirky kindness and I didn't fucking deserve it. I didn't deserve a moment of his time and it felt like a trap. It was too easy. Nothing in the world was meant to be so simple. I didn't want to love him because I didn't want to get broken. I didn't want to deal with the aftermath. I didn't want to be the cause of his disappointment. I didn't want to keep breaking him, but it kept happening.

  
I couldn't erase the memory of the look on his face when he'd realized what he'd said. I just kept seeing the disappointment over and over as he was washed over with realizations of how shitty it was to be in that place with me. I kept seeing the look on his face as he realized that he'd fallen for me and that he was doomed. He knew it, I knew it and everyone in the fucking world knew that nothing involving me was destined for a happy ending.

  
“Haz?” Niall's voice broke me out of my downward spiral, “shouldn't you be talking to Louis about this, not me?”

  
I shook my head quickly, “no, God, no, I can't talk to him,”

Niall stood next to me and rubbed my back slowly. I leaned into him and he spoke softly, “I told you he loved you, Harry.”

  
I didn't say anything, I just focused on his warm hand, up and down my spine. I think I was out of tears, or maybe emotions entirely.

  
He sat next to me and rested his head on my shoulder, “Harry?”

  
I wrapped my arms around him and tried to ground myself in his comfort. I didn't answer him, but I didn't have to. He'd ask anyway. I knew how Niall worked and Niall knew how I worked.

  
“Do you love him?”

  
I'd found my breaking point and all the emotions crashed back into me and the false numbness slipped from me. I cried hard for a few moments before I could finally speak.

  
“I can't see him again,”

  
“That doesn't make any sense, or answer my question.”

  
“I ruined him. I ruined him for everyone else and I knew I would. I knew I'd break him like I broke Ronnie. I told you Niall, and you just let me walk in and break everything. You're always too busy looking out for me, but no one looked out for Louis.”

...

 

It was 3 in the morning and Niall had been snoring for hours. All I'd wanted was to sleep, but the thought of what I'd dream of tormented me. I hadn't been this unwell in years. Finally after ignoring 10 texts from Louis since he'd dropped me off up until now, I unlocked my phone and read his texts, all words that I surely didn't deserve.

  
 _ **Miss you**_ , read the first one, which was surprisingly casual given the conversations that had passed between us. _**Call me?**_ Read the next. **_I'm sorry, Harry_**. He'd sent that one 3 times. **_I wish you'd come over, everything is lonely without you, even the plants._** I almost laughed at that because the only plants in Louis apartment were fake, and needed me just as much as he did. **_If you don't come back I haven't got a clue what to do with all this kale._** I felt tears slip down my cheeks. **_Niall says you need space_** the next message said **_fuck space_**. I had nothing but space inside of my chest. Just emptiness, a giant hole where most people housed a muscle capable of returning feelings.

  
The last text broke me. **_You can't just give me everything and take it away. Am I supposed to just let you walk away? Everything hurts Harry…_**

  
I couldn't lay in Niall's bed listening to him breaking the sound barrier for another second. I was breaking and everyone was oblivious. Maybe it was easier this way. Maybe it was simplemented for me to only explain the pain to myself. Maybe I could work it out, find my bearings and learn to swim in the sea of emotions Louis had set free inside of me. Maybe Niall and Gemma were right and I was strong enough to face anything. I left Niall's bedroom to get a glass of water before I decided to wake him up with pleas to play video games until I could finally give into my exhaustion.

  
The living room light was off, but the lamp was glowing and Zayn was sat on the couch with a sketchbook in his hand. He turned to face me quickly. Niall had informed me that this was pretty regular. He joked that now he had two roommates but also that he had never seen Liam so happy and that Zayn was worth all the insomnia and charcoal stains on the couch.

  
“Harry,” he said warmly, putting his sketchbook down. “You look like hell.”

  
“Pretty and charming,” I shot back.

  
He laughed softly, patting the cushion next to him, “Li’s asleep and I'm bored, come chat.”

  
“I don't really feel much like talking,”

  
“Your eyes betray you, Harry,” figures that Liam would get a completely caring and totally observant boyfriend who would probably try to make me tell all my deep dark secrets. Something burned in his eyes and my curiosity about their relationship got the better of me and I sat next to him quietly.

  
“Where's Louis?”

  
I only cringed a bit at his words. “Said I didn't want to talk,”

  
He nodded and picked up his sketchbook again. I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes and listened to the sound of his pencil against the coarse page. It was pretty soothing and I felt myself relaxing.

  
“So you're fighting then,” he said finally, not breaking from his frantic scribbles.

  
I watched as he shaded a portrait of Liam with the dorkiest smile on his face. I felt a warmth rush through my veins as I peered from my horrifying and complex love life into Liam and Zayn’s. It looked so simple from where I stood.

  
“Do you and Liam fight?” I asked, and maybe Zayn wasn't used to how well I deflected questions.

  
He shrugged, “Not about anything of value.”

  
I contemplated his words. Were Louis and I fighting? It didn't feel like it. It felt more like I was fighting against things I couldn't control and Louis was fighting _for_ us. Maybe we were fighting but we were certainly not fighting the same battle.

  
Zayn did silence well. He seemed totally content in it and happily sketched away while I listened. I could get used to having someone to share my insomnia with. It was companionable. It was easy.

  
“What do you fight about?”

  
Zayn put the book down then, looking directly at me. “Before Liam I only ever dated women. It makes him insecure, but it's stupid because I love him. He's given me a thousand things that dozens of girls never did.”

  
I blinked once, “but you just met him,”

  
“Yeah, but it doesn't feel like that.” He looked at me seriously, “it feels like it was always supposed to be him. The heart wants what the heart wants, Harry, I'm just along for the ride.”

  
I started to push back my cuticles so I didn't have to look into Zayn’s knowing eyes. He made everything sound so simple.

  
“It's pretty easy for you then,”

  
“Yes and no,” I met his eyes again, “on one side, just being with him, looking at him, that's all easy. Loving him, that came just as easily. We fit each other. I don't really have to think about it because I can see it in him and I feel it. He loves me.” Zayn shrugged, “other things aren't so easy. My family doesn't get it, sometimes Liam doesn't get it, but it is what it is, you know? Love is simple, living with it is the more complex part, but it's worth it.”

  
I nodded slowly. Zayn was okay with my silence. He let it stretch on for a long time before he spoke again.

  
“You should probably talk to Louis—that is if you ever plan on getting to sleep.”

  
“First thing you should learn about me is that sleep is never something I chase,”

  
“I feel that on a spiritual level,” he said and I felt my lips curl into a smile. “Wanna go down to my flat and smoke a bowl and not talk about Louis?”

  
My smile was now a large grin, and I nodded happily.

...

 

The next morning I woke up on the couch in Zayn’s flat. There were easels and paints splayed all across the room. The sun was burning brightly through the window and I saw Zayn and Liam standing on the balcony, sharing a cigarette and giving each other their signature puppy dog eyes. They kissed for a moment before they came back into the flat.

  
“Morning, Harry,” Zayn said with a wave.

  
I stood up and stretched toward the ceiling, yawning loudly. “I should head back upstairs and grab my phone and bug Niall a bit.”

  
Liam bit his lip, “Louis’ up there,”

  
“Oh.”

  
We all stared at each other for a moment.

  
“Yeah, that's my bad.” Liam said eventually, “I asked him to come over and hang out and I didn't realize…”

  
“You and Niall can hang out here, yeah?” Said Zayn quickly, “just til the storm blows over or whatever,”

  
I stared at my feet, “I should probably just head home anyway,”

  
“I'm sorry,” said Liam uselessly.

  
“Not your fault, Li,” I mumbled.

  
Now, I was stuck here in Zayn's flat, without my phone with Louis a few floors above me and my phone where he was. Every part of me wanted to beg Zayn to send Niall down to me with my phone so I could run like a childish coward, but the rest of me remembered the desperation in the early morning kisses when Louis had promised he'd always come back. Everything hurt. The desire for the comfort in his arms burned inside of me. The desire not to break him further pulled me in every direction but toward him, but I missed his voice, his skin. Everything was wrong now and I didn't have a clue how to make it right again. Zayn's pity was evident in his stare and Liam's judgement and need to protect Louis was narrowly held back.

  
“I'll just run up and grab my phone…” I said nervously, because when we'd first met I'd felt like Louis was crowding me, invading all of my safe places, but now it felt like I didn't belong in any of those spaces. Funny how everything changed. What did Zayn know anyway? Love didn't come easily, it came hard and big and ugly and I didn't know what the fuck to do with any of it.

... 

 

Slowly, I pushed open the door to Niall’s flat. Because I'd wanted to appear as a proper, fearless adult, I'd insisted that Zayn and Liam not follow me upstairs. What they didn't realize was that I was a bloody liar and wanted them to follow me more than anything. But not everyone read between my lines as well as Niall…or Louis. So here I was, walking through the door on my own. The first thing I saw was Louis sitting on the couch, staring at his balled up hands. His eyes flickered to the door instantly, probably expecting Liam and Zayn. The flat smelled like bacon and eggs. He stood instantly when he saw it was me and my stomach dropped right through the floorboards.

  
“Harry,” he was in the door way in a split second, but he stopped short about a foot away from me.

  
Niall appeared in the kitchen’s door frame, watching to see if I needed him. Bless him. He was the best friend.

  
“Hi,” I said stupidly.

  
“Harry,” he said again and his eyes were red and puffy and it didn't take a genius to see that he'd been suffering.

  
Powerless, I felt my arms stretch open, “c’mere,”

  
He didn't need to be invited twice. He wrapped himself around me and began to pour apologies, filling the gaps as he always did. “Harry, I'm so sorry. I know I fucked up. I know I scared you. I ruined it. You were so happy and I got used to it and I forgot. I forgot you don't want that. I'm so sorry. Let me fix it, please Harry, you have to let me fix it, okay? I don't want to lose you.” He sighed deeply and squeezed tighter, urging me to say something. “Please Harry, you have to forgive me, please.”

  
I held him against me and I didn't really know what I was doing, what I was feeling. I wanted to take away his hurt. I wanted to stitch up every last crack I'd made in him because he didn't deserve it. He was so good and so good to me. I met niall’s eyes. He didn't say anything, he just watched.

  
“I'm sorry Harry, okay? I can fix it, but you need to talk to me.” Louis was so sad and all I knew was that I'd put that sadness there. I'd hollowed him out and broken him.

  
“I just need a minute, Lou, okay? You gotta give me some space. I haven't got anything to say right now. I need time.”

  
Louis deserved the universe but I didn't even know how to construct a single planet. I wanted to be able to give him the things he needed, but he'd fallen for the wrong person, and maybe I'd known it all along. His arms fell, and he looked so small as he stared up at me. His eyes begged me to give him what he needed, but I couldn't even take care of myself. I couldn't even feel my own feelings right, how could I possibly know how to handle his?

  
I touched his cheek softly, and he tilted his head I to the gesture. “Im gonna go and let you have some time, okay?”

  
“I don't want time,” he argued.

  
I was still touching his face and he turned to kiss my palm. I knew I should have felt a lot of things, but some kind of numbness switch had been turned on inside of me. I didn't feel anything. I was overwhelmed. Finally, I dropped my hand and turned away from his sad blue eyes. I walked toward Niall's room and found my phone on his dresser. There were another 11 texts from Louis. I felt him behind me before I heard him say a word.

  
“Let's pretend there wasn't even a weekend. We didn't go anywhere. We just smoked pot with the boys and had sex and green smoothies and nobody met anyone's family and we can just be normal.”

  
“Louis,” I said the word painfully and it hung in the air before I saw that Louis was crying and dammit, I bet no one else on earth had made Louis cry as much as I had. Usually it was me crying all over him, it almost never happened the other way.

  
“I didn't mean to say it, you know that, right? I didn't mean to corner you and trap you with it, it was an accident. I can't lie to you and say it's not true, but I never meant to scare you, Harry, it doesn't change anything. I don't expect anything different from you. I just want it to be the same.”

  
“You need to let me sort it out, Louis.”

  
He sighed deeply, defeat in his expression, “if I give up, I know you won't pick up my slack, Harry I'm not an idiot. Space means I'll never see you again. I can't accept that. I won't.”

  
I walked passed him again and gripped the doorknob, turning back to Niall who was still standing in the door way watching everything happen.

  
“Call me,” I said to Niall and I felt Louis’ hand on my wrist.

  
I turned to him again, his eyes broke my insides. It wasn't fair. I wasn't fair. I was selfish and horrible, but I dropped my hand from the door handle and grabbed him, pressing his body to mine and I kissed him like a monster. I was tearing apart the most perfect person in the world but I couldn't stop. I kissed him until we were breathless and opened the door.

  
“Goodbye Louis,”

... 

Normally, I felt things in a confusing way. It always washed over me and drowned me and made me question my sanity, but numbness was new. It was uncharted. But as I stood in the elevator, finally on my way home, numb was all I had. I tasted Louis on my tongue. I should have felt something. I should have been turned on, sad, lonely, anything. But there was nothing but blackness. I felt like I was floating somewhere other than my body. The detachment was almost comforting because I knew my emotions would be daunting. Finally, the elevator blinked and I'd arrived in the lobby. The doors slid open and I started to walk toward the street.

  
Suddenly, the door to the stairwell flew open and Louis stopped short just a few feet from me. His breaths were heavy. We stared at each other for a moment.

  
“Did you run down the stairs after me?” I felt a smile on my lips despite how thoroughly fucked everything was.

  
He grinned through panting, “guilty,”

  
10 million things should have been said between us but all that came out of my mouth was “you smell like bacon”. This captured a genuine laugh and a smile that crinkled his eyes.

  
“Listen, Harry, I'm crazy about this stunned idiot and whether or not I smell like bacon and look like shit I couldn't just let him kiss me like that and run.”

  
I rocked uncomfortably from heels to my toes and back again.

  
“What are you doing in 3 weeks?” His voice sounded distant.

  
His words all felt desperate. Normally everything Louis said was light and casual and his confidence was unperturbed. I'd broken that somehow and now Louis had to fake it to make himself appear normal. It wasn't right.

  
“Why?”

  
“Come to LA with me. I'm going to the studio there and I was looking for the right moment to invite you and I think we might be out of right moments so I ran down the stairs like a fucking idiot to stand here and hear you say ‘no’” he paused, but before I could speak, he kept going. “But on second thought, don't say it yet, okay? Let me pretend you're thinking about it and I'll ask you again later and then I can at least pretend you considered it,”

  
“Louis, I can't—“

  
“No, not yet.” He put his finger over my lips and stopped my sentence short. “Promise me that if I give you this stupid space you want that you'll at least read my texts. I don't care if all you do is send me the middle finger emoji, just—say anything. Just let me know you didn't forget about me.”

  
“I can't forget about you, Louis.” Didn't he know anything?

  
“But you'll try,”

  
Yeah he knew everything.

  
“And please, take Lottie dress shopping like you promised. She'll be crushed.”

  
I nodded and again we'd fallen into a stalemate. Neither of us spoke or moved and I didn't dare look away from his blue eyes because he was on the verge of letting me walk away. He didn't know when he'd see me again. I didn't know. I didn't have a clue what I would do.  
Finally, he took a step back, bowing his head. He was trying to find something to say, but he'd finally run out of words.

  
“Thank you,” I was tripping over my own words, because they were always out of my reach, but now I had to break through the numbness to access the things I thought I remembered feeling. “For making me feel lovable again,”

 

…

I was laughing so hard that my whole body was cramping in pain. Louis tickled me relentlessly. I begged him for mercy, but he just kept climbing on top of me and holding me down. Tears poured down my face as I looked up into his wicked eyes, begging him to relent. Finally he leaned in and kissed me.

  
“I love you, you fool.” His blue eyes were sparkling bright and I felt warm and safe and happy beyond comparison.

  
“I am so in love with you, you evil, evil brat,” I pulled his head to mine and kissed him, always like it was the first time.

  
“He's going to leave you, you know?” Ronnie's voice echoed through the fantasy and left a cold chill in my bones. I was alone in the bed now, the room was drained of its colour.

  
“He's not afraid,” I argued and it was the first time I actually felt conviction when arguing Ronnie's point because he _wasn't_ afraid. He was brave enough to love me right through all my flaws.

  
“Harry, you already broke it, don't you see? You don't know how to love someone. You left him standing on a ledge and you didn't say anything. You let him believe you don't love him. It doesn't matter if you do Harry, you don't know how to make him feel it. He's standing out there on the edge and you didn't reassure him. You didn't say anything. How long do you think you have before he just fucking jumps? You're not going to be there to catch him—you wouldn't even know how.”

  
I was dreaming. This wasn't real and Ronnie wasn't here.

  
“And what if I do love him? Then what?”

  
Very suddenly his rotten face was in front of mine. I jumped back but he screamed at me.

  
“Then you're a liar!” He hissed and his voice echoed through the room, “then you lied to me and you lied to yourself and you lied to him. You don't know how to do it Harry, you think you love him but you haven't even told him and you've broken him. Do him the favour. Save him from what you did to me. Let him believe you don't love him--it's safer that way.”

...

My eyes shot open and I rolled over to find, that for the third day in a row I was still alone. I was in my own flat and Louis was in his and maybe Ronnie was right. Maybe it was safer this way. It had been 3 days since I'd seen Louis, and the familiar schedule of work was maybe all that was holding me together.

  
I hurt in places I least expected to hurt. I missed Liam and I missed Niall and I missed Louis, God I fucking missed him so much it burned every inch of my soul. It was 3 in the afternoon. My sleep schedule was fucked. More fucked than it had always been. I'd been lonely before, but this was an ache that made it impossibly hard to think around. I heard a knock on my door.

  
Hope fluttered in my stomach before I gave it permission to be there.

  
“Yeah?” I croaked.

  
“Hey, mate, can I come in?”

  
Zayn. Disappointment crowded into the spaces where hope had been a millisecond before. That wasn't fair. Zayn was officially the first person to unceremoniously show up in the middle of my self depreciation party. I owed him friendship points for that. He was brave, or naïve or something.

  
“Yeah,” I said, and instantly the bedroom door creaked open and I was face to face with Zayn's inhuman beauty while I was wrapped in my blankets and some shitty Netflix movie played away on my laptop. I was a mess.

  
“Sorry, I didn't realize you were sleeping. Your flatmate let me in.”

  
“It's okay,” I lied, because I had forgotten what the real definition of the word okay was. I just tossed it around now into places where I thought it should fit, and maybe if I jammed it hard enough, it would actually fit and I could try to remember what being okay felt like.

  
He pulled off his backpack and hauled out colouring books and crayons. He tossed a paperback copy of the notebook at me and pulled out a bottle of scotch. He handed me a baggie filled with weed and pulled out his pipe.

  
“Insomnia survival guide from one insomniac to another,”

  
I smiled up at him and for the first time in days I actually felt something. Gratitude. I didn't even know I needed someone until Zayn had walked through the door.

  
“As a completely neutral third party, I kind of thought it was shitty that Liam and Niall have been babying Louis and no one has come to see you. And I realize you're the perpetrator, no matter how hard Louis tries to spin it the other way, but I figured sometimes even the villain just needs to be understood, so help me understand.”

  
“Love breaks people,

  
“But it fixed me,” he argued.

  
“Love starts wars,”

  
“But it wins them, too”

  
“Falling in love is the only certain way to get your heart broken,”

  
“Running away from love will break your heart too,”

  
I was quiet then and Zayn took a seat on the end of my bed.

  
“I guess I don't know the whole story or whatever, but I just figure if you're both hurting, why not just cut your losses and talk it out? You can't really make it worse at this point.”

  
“You don't know me very well yet,” I mumbled, pulling my covers up to my neck.

  
Zayn didn't press any further, in fact he left my room and came back with two mugs. “Only thing to do now, then is get thoroughly sloshed and call him crying in a couple of hours,”

  
I laughed at that, “let's leave out the last part.”

  
It was strange that Zayn was here in my flat, that he'd chosen to leave everyone else behind to check up on me. He had to be completely fucked up to bother trying to understand me. I appreciated it, because while Niall was giving me the space I'd practically begged for, Zayn had decided to invade. I was okay with it. I missed Niall and I missed Liam and I missed Lottie and… I missed them all, but it felt safer to be alone. But Zayn didn't crowd me. Just just let me exist in the same place he existed.

  
“I'm going out for dinner with Liam's mum tomorrow,” god, he was good. Distractions were so welcome.

  
“First time meeting her?”

  
“Yup and I'm petrified she won't like me, which is hilarious because I've never given a fuck before.”

  
“That's because you give a fuck about Liam,”

  
“I give all the fucks about Liam. Every fuck there has ever been.”

  
I laughed in a real honest way and I wanted to thank Zayn 100 times for that.

  
“Liam's mom is wonderful and I'm fairly certain she'll like you because it's pretty obvious that you give all the fucks about her baby.”

  
“Let's colour,” he said then, handing me one of those trendy adult colouring books.

  
“Aren't you a proper artist, why do you even have these?” I teased lightly.

  
“Because I have a lot of feelings and I need to just colour them out sometimes,”

  
And just like that, in the middle of one of the biggest emotional crises of my adult life I was kind of okay. I had a good friend, one who had the tools to at least make one day bearable. That was good.

 

…

 

Finally, after 2 days of not looking at it, I unlocked my phone. I'd changed my wallpaper the first day because looking at peaceful Louis was maybe a bit too much to handle. If I was being honest with myself, I didn't know what I was doing. I was a perfect mess, trapped somewhere between a desperate need for Louis, a perfect numbness that came and went at its own accord and the knowledge that the last thing Louis really needed was my mess.   
Every couple of days, I'd get high with Zayn and we'd read Louis' texts. Zayn had an admirable perspective on the whole thing. He told me the things I didn't want to hear even when I begged him not to. He'd text me whenever Louis left their flat to let me know it was safe to go over and resume video games with Niall. Early that day Zayn had dropped by to remind me of all the reasons I was a terrible human being. "He hasn't gotten any less sad, you know. He's like a kicked puppy. You basically suck as a person for staying mad at a kicked puppy." "I'm not mad at him," "you haven't spoken to him--makes you suck as a person."

  
A couple of nights ago, Niall and Zayn had ganged up on me and made me respond to one of Louis' texts. I'd sent him the bread emoji. Why? Because it somehow felt better than the middle finger and that's all he'd asked for.

  
This time, though, I was alone. I opened my messages and clicked on the contact that had Louis name with the kissy face next to it. It felt wrong to change it.

  
 ** _Bread. I'll take it._** Read the first one.

  
 ** _I was up on the roof at the studio today... all I could think about was kissing you and basically everything sucks_**.

  
Instead of the usual string of several messages, they stopped there. It felt... wrong. I felt let down. It wasn't fair considering the only thing I'd said to him in a week was a fucking bread emoji, but Louis wasn't supposed to give up. I remembered his words that night when everything had changed. "I'll always come back," and now I felt deflated. Like his words were a sham because just like everyone else in the world, once I'd solidified the distance, he'd accepted it.

  
Everything felt bad and I wished Niall was here. I wished Zayn was there to tell me I was an idiot and that a bread emoji summed up approximately zero of my feelings. And he was right.

  
With the realization that Louis was giving up, everything inside of me weighed a lot more. My feelings crushed me very suddenly because I was completely in love with Louis and I didn't know what to do with that. It was dangerous and seemed destined for failure. Love didn't last. I'd already broken him and he didn't even know how I felt. But there was a loneliness without him there. And aching emptiness where there used to be delirious joy.

  
I texted Niall, needing someone to cry to. Someone I could admit the truth to. He texted me back quickly saying he was watching movie with Liam and Zayn and that Louis was there.  
I texted Zayn and he responded letting me know the door to his flat was unlocked and that he'd meet me there. Zayn was good. I loved Zayn. He fed me liquor and pot and made me laugh and let me paint giant blobs that didn't make sense all over his previously “ruined” canvases.

  
And, just like all the other times we hung out, it was much the same. We drank box wine and talked about his dinner with Liam's mom and I gave him tips on giving blowjobs (I tried not to think about who he'd be using them on, and who I'd tested them out on).

  
Zayn’s bong bubbled loudly as he sucked in the air. He held it for a long time, finally when he released the air, he came at me with intense words that caught me totally off guard.

  
“Louis thinks you don't love him, if you can believe that,”

  
After I'd picked my jaw up off the floor, I scrambled to find an appropriate response. “I never said I did,”

  
He waved off my words with his hand that was still holding his lighter, “yeah but you do,”

  
I felt a little dumb founded. I didn't know how to respond because denial was stupid and addressing it would make it too real.

  
“Well he's spending the night up there, with Liam, they've been writing a lot,” he slid his phone out of his pocket and motioned for me to come closer. “They wrote this brilliant song the other day,” Zayn didn't shy away from anything and he hit play before I could argue and tell him I didn't want to hear it.

  
Oh spaces between us  
Keep getting deeper  
It's harder to reach you  
Even though I try  
Spaces between us  
Hold all our secrets  
Leaving us speechless  
And I don't know why  
Who's gonna be the first to say goodbye?

 

Louis sang a lot more than usual in this one. Obviously I knew where the words were born from and the literal space in my chest burned as I thought about it. Falling in love with Louis had been so easy that I hadn't even noticed I'd been doing it. I didn't realize that all the little things would total up to one giant massive weight in my chest that made it harder to breathe. I didn't realize that he would softly take me over and make my life better and brighter and happier and so much more bearable.

  
I also didn't realize that I'd be so bad at it. I never realized that maybe I wanted to be good at it. That maybe more than I wanted to prove to myself that I was better alone that I wanted to be better to him. But I was forced to watch myself say the wrong things over and over. To watch myself kill the joy in his expressions and push away from him in all the moments that I wanted to pull closer. I'd taken all the good things that Louis had given me and given him nothing but a rotten, bloody mess. My heart was tainted and impossible.

  
And then, in the midst of it all, just when I'd finally started to see that I wanted to be better, he'd cornered me and threw all kinds of feelings at me that I knew nothing about. None of them made sense because I'd been so bad. I'd pushed and pulled and pushed harder and still somehow he had told me he loved me? I didn't trust it because it didn't make sense. I hadn't shown him one thing worth loving.

  
“You suck,” I said to Zayn, snatching the lighter from his hand and packing a bowl. The song burned my insides a whole lot.

  
“On the contrary, mate, you suck.”

  
“You don't know anything about me, or that dumb song.”

  
“Wrong again,” he challenged, “unlike you, louis talks. Like, a lot. I'm sure I've heard the whole thing at least 60 times. I mean the bread emoji? I thought you were better than that,”

  
“Well you were wrong,”

  
He laughed and stood up, “I'm going back upstairs to have sex with my boyfriend whom I'm deeply in love with and have the guts to say it out loud to,” he announced. Zayn was equal parts asshole as he was a breath of fresh air. “Stick around, watch Netflix and pout or whatever,”

So I stuck around Zayn's empty flat and watched Netflix and pouted a lot. All around me were paintings from the mind of a man who very much knew how to feel the things humans were meant to feel, and depending on my mood that was either a good thing or a thing that made me want to die in several thousand small ways. Tonight was the latter. I wanted to be better. I wanted to be able to give to Louis all the things he deserved, but I couldn't do that without knowing how to provide them to myself.

  
I bounced back and forth from Netflix to rereading Louis’ texts to pacing Zayn's flat and reading the spines of the books on his shelf. I stood on the balcony and stretched my neck out and stared up to see if I could see Niall's balcony. I fell asleep on strange positions on his couch and texted Gemma stupid questions about World War II. Suffice to to say that I was not entertaining myself well. Finally, while on my third hour of prison break, I fell asleep again.

...

I was in a club, feeling the music pumping in my chest. The lights were flashing all around me and drunk people were dancing horribly. At the bar stood Niall, Liam, Zayn and Louis. They were lined up and Louis was buying them tequila shots. I joined them at the bar, putting my hand on the small of Louis’ back. He didn't react, he just mechanically lifted the shot to his lips and downed it quickly before requesting 2 more.

  
“You're on your own for those, mate,” said Zayn patting his back and walking away from the bar, Liam in tow.

  
Niall stood next to Louis and watched as he downed the next two shots, pity in his eyes.

  
“Worst part is, every single one of you warned me.” He wiped the tequila off of his lips.

  
Louis eyes were heavy and sad and I somehow knew they were talking about me.

  
“I'm sorry,” Niall's voice rarely sounded so sad and defeated. “I thought it was different this time.”

  
Very suddenly tears burst from louis’ eyes and I wondered what the fuck was going on. Who were they talking about, and why weren't they saying anything to me?

  
Niall was hugging him and the bartender put a glass on the counter that Louis snatched up quickly, tossing the straws aside and downing it quickly. He held up two fingers to the the bartender, “two more shots,” he mumbled.

  
A dark haired girl came up to Louis and shook his hand quickly. He handed her a couple of notes and turned back to Niall. This whole thing was so weird. Why wasn't Niall taking to me? I maybe understood why Louis didn't want to, but Niall? It didn't make sense.

  
Louis stretched out his hand to Niall and opened his fist. On his palm sat 3 purple pills. Quickly I reached out to snatch them, but my hand fell through his, like I wasn't even there.

  
“You shouldn't be doing that shit,” Niall's words barely held conviction, like maybe this was a fight he'd given up on long ago.

  
“I don't want to feel him anymore,” Louis voice was so utterly broken that my chest was full again. Full of pain and regret and hurt. I hurt for him so badly. I needed to touch him.

  
“Louis,” I said as he dropped one of the pills into his mouth, followed by a huge gulp of his drink.

  
He didn't hear me, but again his eyes were heavy with sadness and filled with tears. “He should be here,”

  
Niall pulled Louis against him and his eyes were glassy too. What was happening? Who were they talking about? They clung to each other, and Zayn and Liam hovered close by, whispering things to each other and watching Louis and Niall.

  
“Selfish bastard,” muttered Niall.

  
Louis grip tightened on him, “I just wanted to make him happy,”

  
Louis’ pupils were practically the size of his irises and he swayed Niall's whole body back and forth as they clung together. Zayn rubbed Louis’ shoulder tentatively.

  
“He was a selfish prick,” said Zayn softly, “but he was our selfish prick and he loved you a lot, Lou. Harry loved you a lot.”

  
“What the fuck,” I said, but no one looked at me.

  
I walked closer to them, but they didn't notice. Why didn't they see me? I was right here and Louis was self destructing but he refused to look at me. I could fix it.

  
Over Louis’ shoulder, on the bar, a newspaper was laid open and there was a picture of my face. Something really fucked up was happening. I tried to pick up the paper but it slipped through my fingers. I stared down at that header where it said “obituaries”.

...

 

I shot up right from the couch and the aloneness of Zayn's flat sunk deep into my chest. I breathed heavily. What the fuck had I just dreamed about? Goosebumps filled every inch of my skin. I heard the hum of the city below me and looked at my phone. It was 5 am. The world was waking up and the dawn had just begun and I felt more alone than I could ever remember.

  
I picked up my wallet and dug through until I found the extra key to Niall's flat. I couldn't stay here for another second. Fear was inside of my bones, and instead of waiting for the elevator, I chose the instant gratification of the stairs. I ran up the four flights in record time, opening the door to Niall's slowly.

  
Comfort poured over me in waves. The flat was quiet and still. Niall appeared in the doorway quickly.

  
“Harry?” He asked, confusion and sleepiness on all of his features.

  
I shook my head from side to side, my eyes glued straight ahead to the sofa were a perfect, sleeping Louis was balled up and completely oblivious to my invasion. I shushed Niall and walked passed him, making a beeline for Louis. I hadn't really thought about it, but I woke up needing him. His blankets were balled up at his feet. I lifted them up and fit my body against his back, pulling the blanket up and over us.

  
He stirred, as I expected he would. There was just enough light from the early dawn for me to see the surprise register on his face. He touched my face lightly, his finger tracing my lips. I leaned in then and kissed him softly. His hands ran over my face intently, remembering what every bit of my skin felt like and my chest finally felt something other than empty.

  
I pulled him tightly against my body, settling my head onto his pillow.

  
“Did you miss me?”

  
He turned his head to kiss me again, slow and careful. He broke away and smiled, his eyes sparkling in the morning light, “bread,” he said.

  
And I felt okay. Louis felt okay. We fell back sleep, tangled up in each other.

 


	24. Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me too long to write.... I'm sorry! It's also a MONSTER despite my best efforts to shrink it down--again, sorry!
> 
> For the beginning, song inspo is Touch and Go by my beloved Ed Sheeran and Skinny Love by Bon Iver 
> 
> For the rest of the chapter: Beside you by Marianas Trench  
> Good to You by Marianas Trench

**Louis**

I was pretty certain when I woke up that I'd dreamed of Harry crawling onto the couch with me, because there was very little evidence that he would even consider such a thing. But, as I came to, I felt heat radiating from behind me. There were soft breaths against my neck and I felt butterflies in my stomach because this was obviously not going to last if I didn't approach it right. If I said the wrong thing, moved the wrong way, I was certain he'd shut me out again. To be honest, I was barely certain that there even _was_ a right way to approach this. Maybe no matter what I did, he'd wake up with regret in his eyes.  
I stayed perfectly still, wide awake with Harry against me, wanting ten million things that I was no longer brave enough to chase. I heard Niall and Liam talking in the kitchen, and I listened closely, relieved to focus on anything else.

  
“When did _he_ get here?” Liam's voice always held a guarded and protective connotation when he spoke about Harry.

  
“He came in early, like 5 or sommat,” said Niall, softly.

  
“Jesus Christ,” Liam muttered. “He doesn't _talk_ to Louis, you know? He just does whatever he wants and expects Louis to just go with it. Worst is, Louis does.”

  
“It's not really up to us, though, is it Li?”

  
Liam was loud and I felt Harry move against me and _ohfuck_  I hadn't thought out a plan yet. I didn't know what to say, hadn't even considered what _he_  might say. Everything was fucked--everything was always fucked.

  
_Whywhywhy_.

I said prayers to gods I was certain didn't exist for Harry to just fall back asleep and give me more time with him here. I knew it was futile and I could tell by his breathing that he was awake. I was all too aware of what he sounded like.

  
Against everything I thought would happen, I felt him nuzzle his face into my hair and his grip around my body tightened. He laid soft kisses against my neck and behind my ears and I was done. I was fucking _done_.

  
I turned to him, and he moved his body to accommodate the new position, and our heads rested on the same pillow. His nose was against mine and his eyes might have being iridescent or maybe it had just been too long since I'd seen them. They sparkled and he was actually smiling. Just a small smile, but enough that I could see a hint of his dimple. I wanted to kiss it, and kiss him and do hundreds of lovely and nasty things to him, but first I had to speak, because it always had to be me. Harry never spoke.

  
I meant to think of at least a dozen options and pick the best one of the bunch and test it out, see if I could bring him closer, but because I was the sort of person who never thought about my words, all that came out was typical Louis word vomit.

  
“I'm surprised you're still here,”

  
_Cold_. My words felt cold and they left a ball of ice in my stomach and the hint of Harry's dimple disappeared. I heard Niall shush Liam from the next room and felt them both listening anxiously to hear the next way I'd fuck up.

  
“So am I,” he admittedly softly. So soft. Harry was always so soft in the morning.  
“Harry,” I said, but I felt him first, felt his face coming close to me.

  
Our tongues met first, and for that second, everything felt right in the world because, despite his density and stupidity and general problems with being a decent person, I loved this boy. I loved him and it ached and burned and caused me so much turmoil, but I couldn't help it. Not when he kissed me like this. Not when he made me feel like I was home.

  
He pulled away, his hand resting on my cheek and he stared at me with those eyes. Those eyes that made every emerald pale in comparison and caused me so many sleepless nights. Really it was unfair to compare his eyes to anything because there was really no contest.

  
“Now what?” My mouth was huge. I had to speak. I couldn't let him do that thing he did where he did everything but speak and expected me to figure out what it meant. I wouldn't do it. Things were different now. He expected my forgiveness and although I was willing to give it to him a million times over, he wasn't going to do this. He was going to _speak_ or I was going to lose my mind.

  
His eyes were light and playful, his dimple ghosting his cheek again, my insides pooled. “Breakfast?”

  
“I threw out the kale,” I said, because there was really nothing to say despite what I wanted. Everything was being said in his gaze and I fucking hated it. I hated that I could read him so well and he didn't have to put in any effort.

  
He chuckled lightly, brushing his nose playfully against mine. “Why?”

  
“Because it wilted and it looked sad and I was sad and it just made me angry. I was so fucking mad at you Harry, you know?”

  
He kissed me soft and slow and set everything inside of me at ease, even though I rationally knew that approximately nothing about Harry and I was at ease. How did he do that? He made everything so hard, but it was just so fucking easy when it was just us, like this. In the quiet of the morning and the dark of the night and the middle of the bloody afternoon. He was exhausting.

  
“I'm mad at me too,”

  
“Good,” I said and he laughed instantly, “you're a brat and you deserve it.”

  
“I missed you,” he dragged his lips across the stubble on my cheeks.

  
“Me too,” I said, honestly, “I missed me too. I don't do sad and pathetic well. It's not a good look for me.”

  
He kissed my eyelids softly, still laughing lightly. “You're not pathetic, don't ever say that, boo bear,”

  
Oh god, his teasing was like magic. I felt it all falling back together. Maybe Harry could forgive me for being in love with him.

  
“Bae,” I said and the word burned on the way out because of the sheer stupidity of it—but it made his eyes crinkle and his dimple that much bigger, “I was genuinely excited to receive the bread emoji,”

  
“Then, Louis Tomlinson, you shall receive all the bread emojis your heart desires,”

  
“I don't know what I did to deserve you,” and just like that the playful banter and sarcasm was back and everything just felt like us. We were us again.

  
Harry kissed me again and it was hard and slow and his tongue played against mine and it was half playful and half a tease and more than half of me wanted to fuck him right there on the couch and scar our nosey friends forever. I bit down on his lip and pulled back from him.

  
“Don't shut me out again, yeah? Just yell in my face and tell me all the reasons you hate me. I can't handle silence—as you may or may not know.”

  
He smiled and glowed, his face just centimetres from mine. “I know,” he confirmed.

  
“ _And Harry?_ ” Niall's voice cut into the conversation without a hint of permission, “ _don't be a cunt, yeah?”_

  
Harry laughed, loud and genuine and for a moment I just stared at him, admiring the work of art before me. Eventually his laughter sparked mine and we kissed against our laughter.  
Everything felt kind of all right. I was still suspicious, but Harry's laughter was addictive and his smile… It was everything. Niall's stupid jokes and Liam's nosiness and the quiet calm of the flat was comforting, and I probably could have spent months wrapped up on the couch with him, just kissing. Just staring into the green depths of his eyes and chasing his dimples.

  
Zayn opened the door to Liam's room and he stared at us, but nothing felt wrong. Nothing felt bad and despite our audience, Harry's mouth didn't relent against mine. Eventually, I closed my eyes and felt his tongue gliding against mine. His breath tasted sweet and it was all so Harry. It was all so perfect.

  
“Glad to see Harry finally has his shit together,” Zayn said to Liam and Niall and I felt Harry's lips smile against me.

  
“Butt out, Zayn,” he said before kissing me again, this time his hand gripped the back of my head and it was all tongue. I felt every part of my body throw itself into his kiss. Hungrily he kissed me back and the world around us burned. His hands reminded me what desire felt like and his _taste_. I wanted to remember what he _really_ tasted like and I realized that maybe I couldn't go months just kissing him on the sofa. I wasn't a teenager anymore. He was awakening way too many adult thoughts.

  
“’Bout done, there, or what mates?” Whined Niall, “I'd like to get on with my day.”

  
Again Harry laughed at Niall, and finally this time he lifted his head to aknowledge his friend (and disadvantage me, completely).

  
“Niall, you nusance,"

  
“Harry, you cunt,”

  
“Niall, you nosey arse,” Zayn muttered dryly, resting his head on Liam's shoulder (there were so cute it exhausted me completely).

  
“Remember when we all got along and didn't name call?” I joked half-heartedly, still craving Harry's mouth.

  
“Louis, you're the wanker making out with Harry on my couch,” Liam said quickly, his eyes sparkling with humour.

  
“Haz started it,”

  
He bit my neck quickly, making me gasp and setting my skin full of goosebumps, “I'll let you finish it,” his eyes were heavy and foggy and I felt his stiffness pressing against my own. Everything about him was calling everything in me.

  
“Oh God, Styles, please tell me you're on your way out,” Niall whined loudly.

 

 

Moments later we were sitting in my car and it felt like it felt those first few moments. I shifted into gear quickly after he got in, fearing he might jump out before we ever got a chance....to _anything_. He was quiet and his hand quickly slipped over to my lap, forcing heat across my entire body. I don't think a person had ever been as confused as I was in that moment. I wanted this, I wanted to bathe in the easy calm and throbbing heat that existed when we were together, but I also knew that he needed my honesty. That I couldn't just let him have all the things he wanted without asking anything of him.

  
I pulled out of the parking garage and the sun blazed through the windshield, instantly brightening his eyes. Harry was either going to save my life or ruin it completely. Maybe I'd never know which.

  
"Harry?" I asked tentatively.

  
"Mmm," he answered softly, his whole being exuding comfort and ease. This was going to be impossible.

  
"Harry, I know you want to ignore the last week and pretend everything is okay, but I have things to say to you,"

  
He squeezed my thigh, in attempt to offer me comfort. I'd never been so lost in my life.

  
"You hurt me." My words sat in the middle of the car, waiting for him to acknowledge them. But he was Harry, and Harry didn't speak and I knew this--but still the pause lingered.

  
Finally, after a full five minutes and once we were barely a block from my house, I heard his voice.

  
"It hurt me too,"

  
Why couldn't he just take one day to make sense?

  
"But it was your fault,"

  
"But it didn't make it hurt any less,"

  
"But you could have fixed it,"

  
"I needed to figure it out first. I needed to need you,"

  
I didn't know if I believed it. If I believed him at all. Harry did his very best not to need anyone.

  
"Harry?" I asked again, a bad feeling stirring in my stomach.

  
"Lou," and I don't know what it was, but every time he called me Lou, so soft and so quiet, it gave me butterflies. Basically Harry made it nearly impossible to tell him what I needed to tell him.

  
"I don't want you to come over if you can't promise me you'll stay."

  
"I don't make promises, Louis, you know this."

  
"Well _I_ do," I could practically taste blood from biting my tongue and holding all my words back. "I want you, Harry, but I want all of you--not just the guilty bits that give in when I keep asking. I don't want to be the secret you keep from your sister and your family, Harry, do you have any idea how that _feels_?"

  
"Lou,"

  
"No, stop it, Harry. It feels like shit. I've spent 2 months giving you everything I have, and if it's not ever going to be enough, you need to tell me because this is me and I'm already all in it. It's not going to change. _I'm_ not going to change. I can forgive you for breaking me, but I need something Harry. I need you to give me _something_."

  
There was a debate on his face--that fact alone should have been enough for me to know that I was making a mistake. If he loved me, if he ever planned on loving me, there wouldn't have been constant debates.

  
"Harry, I can't keep fixing it. You need to give me something."

  
But I was desperate. I was stupid or naive or just dunk off my ass in love with that boy. I wanted him and I knew we could be okay, I just needed him to see it. I just needed him to stop questioning everything. We were worth it. Damn it, _I_ was worth it. I could make him happy--why wouldn't he just take that?

  
But all he gave me was silence. And he was here. Right here next to me and I wasn't sad--not anymore. I was mad because I deserved more. I deserved him--all of him. And he could give me the world, he just had to _want_ to do it. And he didn't. And it hurt and it pissed me off.

  
I pulled the car over to the side of the road.

  
"I can't do this Harry."

  
My words held a finality to them. They burned and I instantly regretted them because I somehow knew that what was an empty threat to me was something he'd easily accept and I felt 6 inches tall.

  
“I want you, Harry, more than I ever imagined I'd want someone but I'm not infinite. I have needs too—I can't just keep giving to you, Harry, I'm not being fair to myself.”

  
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry because I was losing. I'd already lost Harry more times than I'd imagined possible and I didn't know how much more I could take. I felt like the lowliest piece of scum on the planet. Why didn't he love me? Why couldn't he just give me what I wanted? I'd barely asked anything of him, but no matter what I gave, I was never enough for him. I could never change his mind.

  
I felt a tear roll down my cheek. Damn. He made me feel too much.

  
“I thought you'd make an exception for me,” I said, even though I was pretty certain by this point he'd stopped listening to my endless stream of confessions. It sucked to be in love with a person who made me feel so damn small. “It was there, Harry, I saw it in your eyes and I thought it was enough. I thought I was enough.”

  
This time his response came without a single pause.

  
“Lou, baby, you _are_ enough,”

  
Five words. Five simple words after the speeches I gave to him. That's all I got, and that's all it took. The floodgates opened and I was a mess. Tears were pouring down my cheeks because I was just so certain he was lying to me. He didn't mean it because he didn't fight for it. He'd never fought for me in even half the ways I'd fought to be with him.

  
He grabbed the gear shift and pushed it into park and reached across to me. He held me tightly against him and I cried and tried to focus on anything other that the hurricane going on inside of me. I took my foot off the brake and tried to calm myself with anything other than his scent. I needed something more permanent.

  
“Despite how stupid I act, I'm not that dumb Louis.”

  
I didn't have a sweet clue what he was talking about, but his words confused me enough to plug the flow of useless tears falling from my eyes.

  
“What does that _mean_?” I hissed the last word because his cryptic and exhaustingly slow words were rarely enough to satisfy me, primarily in moments like this. Moments when I was a mess and he was a mess and I was just so ready to call it quits.

  
“It means that I know I don't deserve you, that I know you should never overlook all the horrible things I say and do to you. I feel like I'll never ever be enough for you, Louis. You deserve more than I know how to give. You're everything, okay? Everything I didn't expect and I want to be better at it, but I also want the best for you and those things conflict, yeah? I'm never going to be what's best for you.”

  
“That's a bit shit of you to say, especially since you don't have a sweet clue about anything,”

  
A small laugh and he pulled me tighter, “I never want to make you cry, Lou, I hate how I am to you. I hate that you forgive me because I _am_ shit. You should want more.”

  
Finally, finally he'd spoken. I wrapped my arms around his back and pulled him as close as possible.

  
“Harold,” I let the nickname linger on my tongue because I didn't know what else to say. It didn't take much, but he'd fixed it. He'd plugged up all the holes in my chest and I felt real again. “You called me ‘baby’,”

  
His lips were next to my ear and I felt him smile, “moment of weakness,”

  
“Brat,” I said pressing my lips against his neck. I breathed deeply and the air smelled like Harry and one of his hairs was stuck to my lips and I felt fully wrapped up in him and for that moment, I felt safe and okay with that.

  
“Stay the night?” I asked and maybe I was a masochist now. Maybe I liked to flirt with the idea of rejection.

  
“Promise,” he said almost too quickly for me to process.

 

…

 

  
By noon we were snuggled naked in my bed, exhausted from sex we'd been deprived of for one horrendous week. Harry's head was resting on my chest and filling me in on facts about Zayn, who was still slightly mysterious to me, but had somehow shared his life story with Harry. Harry laughed in a real way as he told me about giving Zayn blowjob tips and under any normal circumstance, I probably would have laughed along. This time though, I found myself just staring up at him and taking in the lightness in his spirit. He really seemed okay.  
I hoped against hope that I could trust my own judgement.

  
I looked over at the annoying alarm clock that I just _had_ to acknowledge. I sighed deeply because my obligations and job were utterly inconvenient.

  
“Haz?” I said softly, my face buried against his neck.

  
“Lou?”

  
“I have to be at the studio for 2. Should only be a couple of hours…but,”

  
“But?”

  
“But I don't want to leave, obviously, and because I'm about 80% certain you’ll leave before I get back.”

  
He kissed the top of my head and pushed back my fringe, “I promised,” he reminded me.

  
I kissed his chest and held him tighter, “I just don't think you can possibly understand how much I need you to keep that promise,”

  
He kissed me then, soft and slow, “Louis, that's a promise I can keep. I'll make us dinner, yeah? I'll be here when you come back.”

  
I sort of believed him and I didn't know if it was because I was an utter moron or because he was being genuine. I hoped for the latter, but Harry had no idea how much he'd hurt me in the past week. No idea how much it really would destroy me if he didn't keep this promise.

  
…

  
Just after six, I opened the door to my flat and said a silent prayer that my dreams weren't about to be crushed. I smelled something sweek and delicious and heard Harry's perfect voice singing along to the radio. I kicked off my shoes and rounded the corner and grinned like an idiot when I saw Harry had set two places at the table, candles and all, and he was flipping pancakes. There was a giant bowl of fruit salad sitting on the breakfast bar. His eyes met mine instantly and he searched for gratification from me, like he wanted to prove himself.

  
I smiled and walked over to him, taking the spatula out of his hand and wrapping my arms around him. I nuzzled my face in his chest, because being in love with Harry meant I was a kitten and fucking nuzzled _everything_ on him at all times (a lesser man would have been disappointed in how soft I'd become, but I quite liked nuzzling if I was honest). Harry's arms came around me quickly and he kissed the top of my head.

  
If telling him I loved him wasn't exactly the thing that had ruined us in the first place, I'd have said it to every inch of his skin so that he was wrapped in it and never had to feel anything less than the centre of the universe, because he was, wasn't he?

  
“You stayed,”

  
He pulled me tighter and kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my neck and the corners of my mouth, “I can't stay away from you, Lou, don't you know?”

  
I felt so many things all at once. Why wasn't he always like this? Harry could be so sweet, so perfect and so romantic, and yet he made it his mission to make sure that no one else knew. Only in these moments when we were alone were we ever so open and free. Harry gave me so much and yet I just kept wanting more. Was I selfish?

  
“And I made you breakfast for dinner because I love being silly with you, Lou,”

  
I laughed into the crook of his neck, “you're good at being silly,” I assured him, “because you know I'm never going to touch that fruit. Not in a million years,”

  
“You're going to get scurvy,”

  
“Then and only then, I will let you feed me all the oranges you desire,”

  
He leaned his face down to mine then, his lips moving slow and soft and I hated myself because I was stupid. I knew it wasn't true, and that maybe it never would be, but when he kissed me like that…I felt loved. Like he loved me. And it was wrong, but it was all I could feel.

  
My fingers wound themselves in his hair as he sucked sinfully on my neck. My breaths came ragged as his body pressed against mine and his lips brought heat to every place they touched. I was completely unaware of everything but the electricity burning between us. That was until I smelled burning and the smoke detector started to scream wildly.

  
Harry pulled away and cursed, letting me go and turning off the stove quickly. He pouted down at the blackened pancake and tried to lift it out of the pan. He cursed again when he couldn't make it move.

  
I laughed lightly, “relax,” I said, picking up the frying pan and filling it with water and dropping it in the sink. “My cookware is nothing if not resilient,”

  
Harry was still pouting.

  
“’S just a pan, love,” I said and finally cracked a smile.

  
He held his arms open and I went to him without much encouragement. He rocked me back and forth and I felt warm and safe. I wouldn't have traded these moments with Harry for anything in the world.

  
I stood on my tip toes and wrapped my arms around Harry's neck and kissed him hard. He returned the kiss and it was filthy, really. He sucked my tongue, my lips, my neck and I was a hard panting mess against him. He was so different. So in control in that moment. He thrust me against the fridge and his hand massaged me outside of my pants and I moaned into his mouth.

  
“’M in the mood for an appetizer,” he croaked before dropping to his knees in front of me.  
God Harry was so _good_. He had my pants to my ankles before I could even register what he'd said. I was throbbing and his mouth was hot and wet and he took my tip in his mouth and swirled his tongue against me. I called his name in a strangled voice and his almost instantly deep throated my entire shaft.

  
“Harry,” I gasped as I hit the back of his throat.

  
He worked me quick and deep until I wanted to cry from holding back my orgasm. Finally he eased off of me. I pulled his hair harder, fucking his throat deeper, needing more. Needing the release.

  
Against every wish I had in the world, he pulled back and wiped the precome from his lips. He started up at me and something sinister was burning in his eyes. A hunger I wasn't used to seeing.

  
“I want you to come with me inside you,” he said, getting to his feet.

  
Well, shit. That was new. Harry had happy rode me into oblivion more times than I could attempt to count. I'd fucked him in every corner of my flat (and a few corners or Niall and Liam's). I'd fucked him in my mums house, my car and the occasional bathroom (we were teenagers, really). But since that first time, Harry had never really shown an interest in fucking me, and that was fine. He was a bottom, I was pretty flexible and totally fine with our situation, but this? This was different and amazing and I did not remember ever feeling so turned on.

  
“Fuck, Harry, I want you in me,” and he swept me up, and actually carried me to the bedroom. Another rare display, because yeah, Harry was a lot bigger than me. He could lift me easily any day of the week, but that wasn’t typically who he was. Harry liked me in charge.

  
My body hit the bed quickly and Harry was instantly straddling me. His kisses were intense, deep and left me gasping for breath. He wasn't even giving me a second to think. He was already coating his fingers in lube and _ohfuck_  his finger pressed into me quickly. My fingers dig into his back and I breathed out a string of curses at the suddenness of the action, but almost instantly his long fingers found the spot and I nearly screamed into his mouth as he pressed against it over and over. He slid in a second finger and fucked my mouth with his tongue.

  
“Oh my—ha-Harry,” I gasped and I could feel my dick pressed between our stomachs and it ached. “Harry, get in me, fuck I'm already ready to come,” speaking was such a chore.

  
I grabbed Harry's cock and started to work it slowly. He scissored his fingers inside of me and the fraction against my cock was too much for me to take. I tried to focus on working him. _Up and down_ , I changed in my head, but I was effectively reduced to an incoherent ball of mush as Harry's fingers pressed relentlessly against my prostate.

  
“’M gonna come, Haz, please,” I begged and I felt him ease up, pulling his fingers put slowly.

  
I panted and stared up at him, my hand still around his cock. I felt like jello, my whole body exhausted from the almost orgasm and I was screaming at him internally to finish me off. He looked down at me, and smiled, brushing my sweat-soaked fringe out of my eyes.

  
“You look so good like this, Lou,” he said.

  
I arched my hips up to him, rubbing my cock against his, which was still in my hand.

  
“Christ Harold, you better finish me off,” I whined as I felt his skin against mine. It was painful, I was so hard and so close.

  
His teeth found my neck and the pressure from his body just added to my discomfort. I wanted to come so fucking bad I could hardly think, but I wanted him. I wanted him to take it however he wanted, but it was utter agony waiting for him.

  
He moved my hand from his dick and very suddenly he was pressed against my hole. This was already the third or fourth hard on I'd had since that morning, but despite the complete exhaustion I felt I imagined I could handle it another four or five times. Harry's body was magic. He made me feel things I'd never imagined could feel so good. Sex was rarely bad, and prior to Harry I'd had some very satisfying nights with plenty of satisfactory men—but Harry? Harry redefined the things I felt, because as he pressed into me, as he rocked hard and fast inside of me and hit my prostate over and over, I felt more than physical satisfaction. I felt connected to his very being. I was completely in love with him and when we're like this is was only more intensified.

  
I felt him in and out, his hand wrapped around my throbbing, aching cock and I stared up and him and he was crying. He was fucking me like I'd never been fucked before and all the while, tears were pouring from his eyes. I felt one of them land on my cheek, and somehow I managed to find enough co-ordination to reach up and wipe his tears away.

  
“Lou, you're so good—so good to me. You're so fucking good to me,” a that was kind of it. That was the moment I realized I was crying too, and there were so many _iloveyous_  trapped on the tip of my tongue that I had to bite down on Harry's bicep to stifle them from falling out. I felt it then, I felt Harry's release inside of me, and as he hit my spot again, for the umpteenth time, I cried out and came all over both of our stomachs. 

  
Harry pulled slowly out of me, his body still hovering over mine. He kissed my cheeks, drying my tears. I'd never been so close to another person as I was to Harry in that moment. I felt completely surrounded by him. He was still crying, gasping for breath really, but he leaned down to lick the come from my stomach.

  
“You taste so good, Lou,” he said, and I wiped his tears again, and pushed the soaking wet strands of his hair out of his face and pulled him down beside me.

  
“Why are you crying Harry?” I asked, hiding the coward that I really was. If he asked me the same question, I don't know how I'd answer.

  
“Because I want this, I want us and I want to be better but I'm not,” he kissed me slow and hard and I tasted myself on his tongue.

  
I ran my nails slowly down his back, wound our legs together and just stared into his eyes. They sparkled more green than usual. The tears kept coming from him, but he kept kissing me, the salt mixing into our mouths and it was kind of a mess and maybe kind of exactly what we needed?

  
“Why did you cry, Lou?” He asked me, before swirling his tongue in my mouth again. I was nothing if not honest.

  
“Because you don't love me, but I love you so, _so_ much,”

  
I kissed him again, and it was more an act of desperation, a way to shut him up so that he couldn't run, or worse—reinforce that I was right.

  
He cried harder then, sobs escaping into my mouth. Harry was wrecking me. I could hardly handle my own pain, let alone the knowledge that Harry felt pain too.

  
“It's okay, Harry,” I said between his desperate kisses, “you don't have to, I just want to be honest with you,”

  
“I'm sorry,” he said, and it only released 10,000 more questions inside of me. Was he sorry that he didn't love me? I don't know why, but the thought burned. The idea that no matter what we did, what I said, what he said, that he didn't love me, but he felt guilt about it? That he was sorry? Sorry for making me fall, or sorry that he didn't catch me, or was he sorry that he couldn't make himself feel the same?

  
Of course I couldn't say those things.

  
He rolled over and I wrapped myself around him, holding him tight enough that it almost felt like I could hold him together.

  
“I'm sorry that I'm not enough—that I don't give you enough. I want you to have everything you want and I'm not giving it to you,”

  
“You are everything I want. Just stay here with me, okay? I don't care about the rest of it,” _lie_ , “I just need you here, now, tomorrow, next week. Just stay Harry, please.”

  
“I promise,”

  
The room was silent then. Harry’s panicked breathing slowed to normal and he wrapped his arms around mine and wiggled so that his back was closer to my chest. He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it softly.

  
“You're the best boyfriend I've ever had, Lou,” _holy fuck_ , “I'm sorry for making you cry,”

  
As I knew all too well, harry had had approximately one other boyfriend. I was pretty sure I felt an earthquake. Something strange and undefinable was happening in that moment. First of all, after the whole ‘I love you’ incident last week, I was fairy certain that I'd been demoted. The idea of me being his boyfriend seemed preposterous to me anyway, because Harry was willing so give on so few of his limits, but to see that even through the storm i had retained this title? It was kind of amazing, kind of horrifying and fucking huge. Especially when coupled with the fact that he thought I was the best?

  
I had been so busy worrying that we'd never make it through his hurricane, but he saw me as more. As an anchor against the winds and rain and that I was doing the best job of it. That in comparison to the first and last person Harry had ever loved, I was _better_.

  
Maybe there was a million places Harry should have placed a billion other words, but this placement of those words? They almost felt warmer and bigger than ‘I love you’ could have.

  
“Harold, there's no contest. Hands down you are the greatest boy in the universe. I'm so lucky to love you,”

  
I decided then, in that moment, in the darkness and safety of my room, that I would make sure he always knew I loved him, even if he'd never love me back, because love was not something to keep under wraps. Harry deserved the moon and maybe I could be the best at giving him that, too.

 

….

  
It was 4:36 am when I woke up to the sounds of dresser drawers slamming closed. I opened my eyes and saw Harry, grabbing all of his clothes and throwing them into a duffel bag. Panic was on his face. He was pale and mechanical looking. He glanced up and looked right through me, like he couldn't really see me at all. A panic settled into my own gut because I wasn't supposed to wake up. I wasn't supposed to see him leave. He was trying to sneak off, against his word and against everything I wanted of him. And now I'd woken up and ruined his plan.

Panic took me over and I sprung up in the bed.

  
“Harry?” I said, and he walked quickly out of the room.

  
I was still naked, but Harry was fully clothed. Ready to make his exit and he was packing every single item he'd brought to my flat and he was, of course, not responding to me.  
I stood up, making to follow him, pausing only to pull on a pair of underwear because it was seriously hard to have serious confrontations in the nude. I found him in the loo, grabbing his toothpaste and shampoo and conditioner. Just a few hours ago I'd been the best boyfriend he'd ever had, and now I wasn't even worthy of an explanation. Harry enraged me sometimes.

  
“Harry,” I said it more firmly this time, but he just passed by me, brushing my shoulder and ignoring me completely. I felt scared.

  
He tossed the items into the duffle bag and started picking up his dirty clothes from the floor.

  
“Harry Edward Styles, I swear if you don't say something to me I'm going to lose my god damn mind,”

  
He brushed passed me again, this time heading to the living room to retrieve his camera and started to pack it into his case. Again, he looked at me, but he didn't even see me. He didn't speak. Didn't even acknowledge me at all.

  
“Harry!” This time I yelled it, feeling like an utter piece of shit, yet again.

  
He moved to head back to the bedroom, “I have to go,” he said.

  
He brushed passed me again and put his camera into the bag. Slowly and mechanically he zipped it up. He was acting out of instinct, not desire. I had to break through to him to let him know he didn't have to do this. He could _think._  He could stop and talk to me and realize that he didn't just have to go through his motions. We could change it, but he needed to talk to me.

  
“Harry don't do this,” I pleaded.

  
He picked up the bag and hefted it over his shoulder. Only then did he finally look at me. His eyes held pain and regret and utter horror. Something wasn't right and he wasn't speaking and I knew if he walked out of that door that I would be done. I couldn't let him come and go at his leisure. I needed permanence.

  
“I have to go home,” his words had no emotion in them. He didn't care. He didn't feel. He just spoke like a robot and I was ready to lose my mind.

  
“No, you _don't_ ,” I argued loudly.

  
He made to walk passed me. I grabbed his wrist, he looked down at me and all I could see was fear. Why was he doing this?

  
“Stay.” I said firmly, “you _promised_ ,” the last word came out as a strangled, desperate croak.

  
He stared at me unseeing for a long moment and I pleaded with him to speak. I didn't drop his wrist. Slowly, his eyes started to focus and I could pin point the exact second he finally saw me. His duffle bag fell to the floor and he hugged me, clinging desperately.

  
“I have to get the train, Lou, I have to go home,”

  
Oh. The train. _Home_. He wasn't talking about his flat, was he?

  
“Harry, it's 4:30 in the morning, why do you need to catch the train?”

  
He held me tighter. I felt his arms constrict me completely and I could barely breathe. I didn't know what was happening.

  
“Gemma called me,” he said finally, “and I have to go home. Robin had a heart attack and I have to go home.”

  
“Harry, I'm sorry,” I said, knowing exactly what turmoil this was causing Harry. He was closer to his step father than his real father. He always spoke fondly of him, of his mother and his sister, but going home? It was something that Harry didn't do—for obvious reasons. The conflict in his expression made sense now, because he was scared. He knew where he needed to be, and that he couldn't let down his family, but home was a scary place for Harry. Home was littered with bad memories and reminders that he didn't want and had spent years avoiding.

  
“If we leave now we can be there by morning,” I said, now swaying his body back and forth.

  
“I--can't,” he sighed, “I can't ask you to come, Louis,”

  
“Of course you can, you can ask me and I will say yes,”

  
He gripped me tighter again, “thank you,” he said so softly, directly into my hair. “Thank you, but it's not—not your job, Lou. I'm an adult, I should be able to go home,”

  
Harry was lying. I knew the exact real reason he was saying no, and it had nothing to do with how brave he wanted to appear. He didn't want to go back to Holmes Chapel with me. He didn't want to parade me around to a town that was full of promises he'd made to another boy. That hurt.

  
“No pressure, Harry, it just, if it were Dan, I know I'd want you there. I'm just offering because that's what partners do, yeah? And I have a car and it's a lot more comfortable than the train, and I really want to do this for you, you know? I don't want you to be alone.” I sighed as he pulled away and looked at me, “do you want to call Niall? I can drop you both off and pick you up whenever you're ready?”

  
The debate on Harry's face was strong. He didn't want to need me. He didn't want to let other people see him need me.

  
“Just let me drive you,” I said firmly, “I won't stay, just let me know when you're ready to come back and I'll be there to pick you up. I'm not asking, Harry.”

  
He nodded once and took my hand and kissed it. “Thank you,” was all he said and we were out the door not five minutes later.

 

…

  
The roads were mostly quiet the entire way to Harry's village. The car was mostly quiet, too, save from the few rushed phone calls with his mother. Every once and awhile, he would reach out and slide his knuckles softly down my arm. He was seeking comfort from me, like any normal person would, but he didn't want to. I wished he made sense.

  
“Harry?” I said when we were only a few kilometres away from Holmes Chapel.

  
He didn't speak, he just looked at me softly, his eyes holding back all kinds of questions and wants and desires.

  
“I just want you to know that it's okay to need me, or want me, or whatever. I know you don't want to, but Harry I need you too. I wouldn't want to face something like this without you, and there's nothing wrong with that,”

  
He nodded but didn't say a word. I took one of my hands off the wheel and he scooped it up immediately, placing it in his lap. I heard his phone ring a moment later.

  
“Gems,” he said, quietly pressing it to his ear. “No, I'm almost there. I got a ride. He paused, “Louis,” he said and I squeezed his hand. “Yeah, he is.”

  
We drove passed the Holmes Chapel sign then and I saw Harry visibly stiffen. I pulled to the side of the road for a moment. I stared at him, but he tried not to meet my eyes.

  
“Do you want to navigate me or do you want to drive?” I asked softly.

  
He looked up at me and pain was evidenced on his face. He leaned across slowly and kissed my lips soft and chaste.

  
“Thank you,” he said and I was pretty sure he was about to tell me to just turn around here and that he'd just walk, but more words came. “Thank you for always being so good to me,” he kissed me again, soft and slow. I stroked his hair softly. He pulled away then, taking my hand firmly back in his. He pointed straight through the windshield, “just up there is the cemetery,” I squeezed his hand then, trying to think of something to say. “I'll just navigate, if that's okay. Gonna meet Gemma at Mum’s,”

  
I nodded and kissed his cheek, “whatever you need, Haz,”

 

He directed me through the quiet town and down the road where his mother lived. We pulled up to a warm looking little cottage and he informed me that this was it. There was a rental car in the driveway he said belonged to Gemma. We pulled in the driveway and I felt pretty unsure of everything. All of my instincts screamed at me that I should not leave him here like this, but I had to respect what he wanted. I didn't want to push him, but dropping him here and leaving felt wrong in the worst way.

  
We sat in the driveway for a moment, Harry just staring at me. Finally I heard his voice, once again spilling things I knew he would only say to me.

  
“I didn't want to come back here like this, you know? I wanted to come home when I was ready, not because I had to. I guess I should have been ready by now, yeah?”

  
I shook my head, “no, there's no timeline, Harry,”

  
“I wanted to bring you here, but not like this. Not because I had to. I wanted it to be right,”

  
My heart grew way more than 3 sizes in that second. This was something Harry had considered. He'd thought about being ready, about bringing me home. It was all so much more. More than I'd allowed myself to hope for.

  
“So we'll come back when you're ready, it's okay,” I assured him because in that second there was hope and what felt like a promise (which Harry didn't make—for anyone but me) that one day he would be ready. And I was okay, I could wait because I had a guarantee. Harry had plans. ‘Down the road’ plans. Plans one may even call ‘long term’.

  
Harry didn't make a move to leave the car. He just gripped my hand tightly. We were silent a long time until I saw Gemma open the front door, waiting for her brother. He didn't want to get out, and I didn't want to leave him, but I knew I had to let him go. I had to let him do this without me and cling to the hope that he'd be ready soon to bring me here for real. He undid his seatbelt, but didn't release my hand. He sat still another moment before he finally moved to open the door. He got out quickly and opened the back door to grab his bag. He didn't say a word. Not a single goodbye before he closed the back door, too. My heart sunk.

  
A second later, my door opened and he stared down at me, “Coming?”

  
“Well, I thought—“

  
“I already told Gemma you were staying,” his words cut me off, “but only if you want to,”

  
I turned off the car instantly and got out, “of course I want to,” I said, now standing in front of him.

  
He nodded quickly, his eyes still unsure.

  
“Maybe you should tell me the rules, like what not to say, how to act, if I can touch you or whatever,” my heart was drilling in my chest because he wanted me here. I'd offered him Niall, and he'd picked me.

  
“Don't be stupid, Lou, no rules.” He said it firmly, “be yourself,”

  
I smiled at him and nodded, because I didn't know what to say to that. I'd expected an itemized list of rules and reasons that no one in Holmes Chapel could know we were boyfriends. This? This was far from anything I'd expected. I suppose Harry was throwing all caution to the wind because he grabbed my hand in his and shut the door to my car. We walked to the front door to meet a grinning Gemma.

  
“Louis Tomlinson,” she said, moving to hug me before her brother, “saw one of your songs is up for a Brit,” she ruffled my hair and pulled Harry in for a hug, “and you've been busy winning over my stubborn brother. Been a good year for you, yeah?”

  
“The best,” I confirmed.

  
She looked to Harry then,“He's not smiling like that because of the Brit, either, Harry,” she said firmly, “which means he thinks you're a prettier shiner award so you should always hang on to this one,” she pinched my cheek and ushered us into the house.

  
“Mum is at the hospital,” she said, “we’re gonna meet her there in a bit, so why don't you drop your stuff and have a cuppa and we’ll head out?”

  
Harry nodded and padded away down the hallway with his bag over his shoulder. I made a move to follow him, but Gemma held me by my shoulder.

  
“He's going to his room, maybe just give him a minute?”

  
I didn't want to, but I obeyed Gemma because I desperately wanted her approval (contrary to my entire personality).

  
“Must say I'm surprised to see you here,” she mused, “Niall told me about…Doncaster,”

  
“’Course he did,”

  
“Hey, it's just been us looking out for him for awhile, we’re still working you into the mix. Which reminds me that I don't even have your number,” she said pulling her phone out and handing it to me.

  
“I didn't know I was staying until approximately 2 minutes ago,” I said, tapping my number into her phone.

  
We were quiet for a minute, until Gemma broke it. “Thank you, though, for loving him and all,”

  
I nodded, not really knowing what to say to that. I didn't really need to be thanked for something that was completely involuntary. I'd keep doing it with or without her approval. With or without _Harry's_ approval. I felt safe with Gemma and I wanted to respond to her with ‘I wish he loved me too,’ but I held it back. I didn't need to be lied too.

  
“Harry and Robin were always really close,” she said then, “and I'm pretty sure Harry's more upset about this than he needs to be because he feels bad that he doesn't come home to see him. But Robin is going to be okay. Mum already told me. They're keeping him for a few days, but he'll be alright,”

  
“Good,” I said, truthfully.

  
She rubbed my shoulder softly, “they're both gonna be really happy to meet you, you know? So don't bother being nervous or anything, we all waited for you for a long time.”

  
I smiled at that and saw Harry in the doorway, watching our exchange quietly. I smiled at him and he smiled back. It was really odd how comfortable and normal it felt to be smacked into the middle of something I didn't have enough time to work myself up over. I should have been terrified and horrendously uncomfortable, but I felt okay.

 

Gemma drove my car to the hospital, while Harry and I sat in the back seat. Harry kept his head on my shoulder while he talked to Gemma and listened to her assure him that Robin would be okay. Eventually Harry asked the question we were both obviously wondering.

  
“Did you tell mum about Lou?”

  
Gemma sighed, “no, and it was the hardest thing I've ever done, but it wasn't my place. I didn't tell her you were seeing anyone,”

  
“Thanks,” said Harry, but I couldn't help but think that maybe a little ground work on Gemma's part could have eased the tension in my stomach.

 

When we were in the lift heading to Robin’s floor, Harry still held my hand. His palms were sweaty and I wanted to be able to ease his discomfort, but I was unable to pinpoint exactly what was bothering him the most. Gemma lead the way to his room, having spent most of the night with their mum. Harry stopped outside of the room, holding his breath. Gemma towed me over to the chairs in the waiting area. I obviously knew it wasn't right for me to follow him into a stranger’s room, but watching him walk in alone was near impossible.

  
“Gemma pulled her knees up onto the hard chair and leaned her head against my arm. She snuggled in tightly against me, “sorry my brother’s a wanker,” she said.

  
“He's not—“

  
“Oh, spare me the monologue,” she joked, wrapping both of her arms around mine and snuggling closer, “he's a right state most of the time, but he adores you, you know? He's just adjusting to the whole thing in typical Harry fashion--That is to say completely ungracefully and making a mess of the whole thing,”

  
I laughed at that, mostly because I could see the fondness in her expression, despite her harsh criticism. “And thanks for being here for this—for him. He’ll thank you proper one day,”

 

Gemma and I sat out on the hard waiting room chairs for nearly two hours before Harry finally came out. When he emerged, he looked lighter somehow. I looked relieved and okay, despite everything. He smiled when he met my eyes. Gemma didn't move from my side and it was then that I realized she was fast asleep on me. Harry laughed a bit at the sight and I shrugged lightly.

  
“Everything Styles falls for everything Tomlinson, what can I say Harold?”

  
A dark haired woman appeared in the doorway behind Harry. He eyes shot to me immediately and she gripped Harry by his shoulders, “when you said ‘someone’ was waiting for you I was expecting _Niall_ ,” she hissed in his ear loud enough for everyone around to hear.

  
Harry's face went beet red at that, “Lou, this is my mum, Anne. Mum, this is Louis. He's a song writer, producer and human pillow,”

  
“Oi!” Gemma said, sitting up groggily.

  
All four of us laughed in unison at that. Wow. This was really easy. I wasn't scared at all. Harry's mom was gorgeous, a lot like my own. She seemed warm and happy and I honestly wasn't scared in the slightest. Why should I be? Mums loved me.

  
I got up then, taking her hand in mine and giving it a firm shake, “it's good to meet you Anne,” I said and she laughed again.

  
She looked at Harry like she'd just won the lottery. Pride glittered in her eyes and she looked back to me and back to him again. “He's handsome,” she commented with an impossible smile on her face. I think I loved her already (and not just because she called me handsome).

  
“Cool it, mum,” Harry warned, but she looked to me again, nodding her approval.

  
“Mama got no chill,” she said, and she was dorky and foolish, just like her son. We all laughed at her for a second before Harry draped his arm around her shoulders.

  
“Mama gonna have to chill or I'm getting a hotel,”

  
“This is the first time you've been home in five years, it wil, be a cold day in hell before you stay in a hotel, Harry,”

  
“Besides that,” Gemma piped up, “hotels don't have all the embarrassing baby pictures Louis really came here to see,"

  
“It's settled then,” announced Harry, “hotel, it is!”

  
Anne poked him in the rib, making him squeak loudly. Gemma and I laughed at them and finally Anne spoke.

  
“Robin is coming home tomorrow,” she told Gemma, “he's going to be fine with medication so it seems like we're done worrying for now, so why don't we take Louis out for lunch and proceed with baby pictures?”

  
“Please,” I said brightly, and although Harry's expression was still unsure, he seemed content. He'd told me to be myself, and I was a confident and comfortable person by nature. I was just hoping that it would go over well with him.

 

Over lunch, we mostly talked about mine and Harry's work. Harry boasted about Niall winning six tournaments this year and told her about Liam and I writing songs together (he almost seemed proud?). Harry and Anne were a lot alike. They had the same laugh and same dimples. They were both gorgeous and I really couldn't help but fall for her too.

  
“So you have siblings?” Anne asked, sipping her wine thoughtfully.

  
“5 sisters and 1 brother,” Harry answered for me, which was oddly eager, given the image I thought he was trying to present (total nonchalance).

  
“My favourite is Lottie,” joked Gemma, “she's adorable,”

  
“You haven't met Doris, though,” countered Harry, who pulled out his phone to show his mum a picture of my little red haired sister.

  
“You've met Louis’ family?” Anne sounded suddenly very serious.

  
“Just once,” was Harry's answer, like it made it any different.

  
Anne looked positively crushed, “it's just, I miss you so much, H,” she said, putting his phone down on the table and taking his hands in hers, “and you don't ever tell me anything. It's like you just pretend we're not here because you don't want to come home,” she was tearing up a bit by this point, “I mean, Robin had to have a heart attack for us to get you here. We love you Harry, why do you have to hide?”

  
I felt like an intruder at that moment, listening to family problems that were really not my business, but I knew where Anne was coming from. I knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of Harry's coolness. He could be so frigid.

  
“You are not the reason I don't come home. You know that.”

  
Harry's words were clipped and short and he was signalling the end of this conversation. He wanted no part of it.

  
Anne looked at him, looked like she wanted to say dozens of things to her son, but she opened her mouth once, paused, shut it and then spoke like it had never happened. “And how old is little Doris?”

  
Harry had her wrapped around his finger, didn't he? I'd never have given up that easily. She accepted his silence in favour of being alienated. It was strange, but I almost understood the appeal.

  
“Just had her second birthday,” I said quietly, “that's when Harry came by, was for Ernest and Doris’ birthday,”

  
“Wow, they're young, your mum must be a busy lady,” Anne seemed to be falling back into natural conversation well.

  
“Mum's totally baby obsessed,” I confessed, “married a younger man to get another couple of kids before it was too late, I reckon. She's a midwife too. Like I said, totally baby obsessed,”

  
“Nothing wrong with that,” said Anne quickly, “I'm just waiting on this one to get baby fever so I can get on the grandbaby bandwagon,” she said, pointing her thumb at Gemma.

  
“She's gonna have to meet a guy first,” Harry said, mockingly.

  
“I'll have you know I've met many guys, they were just all shite,”

  
I laughed at that, “I have a feeling few men could be up to Gemma's standards. We might have to start shopping for her,” I said to Harry.

  
“I know a nice boy. He's an Irish golfer,”

  
Gemma laughed dryly, “cold day in hell when I'm desperate enough to take Horan out for a ride,” Anne laughed at that, “that Zayn though, _that_ I could get behind—or under,”

  
“Gemma! Keep it PG,” Anne said, laughter falling from her despite her complaints.

  
“Gemma got no chill,” I said and Harry laughed, touching my knee under the table.

  
“Your chances are infinitely better with Niall,” Harry commented.

  
“Oh god, I'm dying alone,” she stared at her mother completely deadpan.

  
“There's someone for everyone,” Anne meant to tell Gemma, but her eyes were on me. She kept looking at me like I was an a-list celebrity she'd dreamed years about meeting. But I understood. I was here, with Harry, the one tangible piece of proof after many long years, that Harry was okay.

 

After lunch, we headed back to Anne's house and proceeded with baby pictures, which were, in fact, not even slightly embarrassing. Gemma and Harry were adorable children and it was quite obvious that they could do no wrong. Anne was proud of every insignificant thing they'd ever done.

  
Harry had been so distant from his family for so long, but it was clear to me that they were just as in love with him as the rest of the world. He saw things in himself that no one else saw. I was certain Harry thought he was the embodiment of darkness, but everyone else saw the clumsy, dorky, lanky ball of light that I saw and it was kind of a relief to be surrounded in a place of nothing but other people who were head over heels for him.

  
Harry was mostly quiet as Anne and Gemma regaled stories of his high school band and the piano lessons he took through his younger years. These were all facts that Harry had kept from me this entire time. I knew Harry was musical, and it was just a bit annoying that he held it back from me.

  
“For his fifteenth birthday we got him a camera, a proper one and he turned his closet into a dark room,” said Anne.

  
“I miss that,” Harry mused, allowing himself to think about his past, and not dwell on a negative. “Tess and Ronnie and I would go on hikes and I'd drive them mad taking pictures,”

  
Anne rubbed his shoulder softly, maybe she knew that he didn't speak about this stuff so easily. Maybe she was also aware of how huge this day was for Harry.

  
The whole room was silent as we all turned over the memory in our minds. All of our eyes were on Harry, waiting for him to collapse under the weight of the memory. He did looked weighed down, but he didn't seem broken. Then he broke the silence.

  
“Think ‘m gonna visit Barbra in the morning,”

  
Anne smiled huge at that. Harry being here was one thing, one rare thing, but maybe we all assumed he'd hide in the house and not let the rest of the village know he was here.

  
“She'd love that, Haz,” said Anne, and he nodded at her.

  
Again silence washed over the room. Harry slipped his hand in mine and Anne's eyes glittered at the gesture. He hadn't said anything. Hadn't put a label anywhere, hadn't given his mother any information about me, about _us_  at all, but she still looked at me like the greatest thing that had ever walked through the door. I felt warm, safe and totally in love with being here, with Harry's family.

  
“How did you meet Harry anyway, Louis?” Asked Anne, and I knew what she really meant was _what did you do to make him like this?_

  
“He was dating Liam!” Said Gemma excitedly to her mum.

  
Anne raised an eyebrow.

  
“Dating is a strong word,” I explained, “we went on a couple dates, but it wasn't really there, you know?" I mused, “especially with this one wandering around throwing cheap shots at me,” I said and nudged Harry's shoulder with mine.

  
He smiled small and uneasy.

  
“Harry doesn't do anything gracefully, though, does he mum? A true klutz to the bitter end,” joked Gemma.

  
Harry stuck his tongue out at his sister.

  
Most of the conversations we'd had since the hospital consisted of Anne staring directly at me and smiling like I was the only person in the room. This moment was no different.

  
“This is nice though, aside from the reason it happened,” her smile was calm and easy and I don't think I'd ever successfully made anyone as happy as I'd made this woman by just existing, “all of us being here, teasing Harry as a group. It's nice. Family time and all that,”

  
Gemma hugged her mom then, “I knew you'd like him,”

  
“I do,” she said to me, “I really do, Harry,” her eyes were soft and happy and Harry nodded softly, saying nothing as he always did.

 

 

Before we ate dinner, we went back to the hospital and Gemma and Anne and I played endless games of hangman while we waited for Harry to be done talking to Robin. When we got back to Anne's Gemma ordered us takeaway and we watched Bridgette Jones’ baby. It was all very effortless. We got on well and it wasn't really something we had to think about. Anne kept staring at me every time Harry moved a muscle. I smiled at her, too, because why wouldn't I?

  
Eventually, after a long and exhausting day, Anne announced she was ready for bed. I heard her climb the stairs and heard the shower turn on. Gemma watched Harry as he pushed back the cuticles on each of my nails.

  
“I told you,” she said to Harry.

  
“Told me what?”

  
“That she'd love him. Mum hasn't been this happy about anything in ages,”

  
“I know,” he said, and it was low and mournful, bogged down with regret or disappointment or something.

  
He didn't drop my hand though, instead he wound his fingers around mine. Harry ran almost 90% on guilt and I'd give anything to know what was going on in his mind in that moment.

  
“We should have dinner at Dad’s while you're here,” said Gemma, and I thought maybe she was the person in the world who pushed him the most. But he also gave into her more than most.

  
He nodded slowly.

  
“And you should bring Tommo, obviously,”

  
Again he just nodded.

 

Harry stayed quiet for the rest of the night and when we entered his childhood bedroom, it was really no different. He was quiet as he invited me under the covers. I laid on my back and he lifted my arm so he could snuggle into my chest. He was quiet for so long I was sure he was asleep. I didn't know if I could fall asleep at all. There was just too much going on. After awhile, I felt him kiss my chest.

  
“Thank you,” his voice sounded sleepy, like he was fighting sleep to tell me this.

  
I kissed his head and wrapped my arms tighter around him, “anything for you Harold,”

  
Silence breezed in again until he opened up with a full monologue I was in no way expecting.

  
“I didn't realize how hard it would be to come back here until I was in the driveway and I just knew I didn't want to do it alone. I wasn't going to make you stay because I knew there would be so many questions I didn't know how to answer,” he paused, “but Mum just knew and you just knew how to answer them all,” he kissed my chest again, “this place—this room, it's so full of him, you know? And I thought if I brought you here I'd die of guilt, and I'm sorry because that isn't fair. I should never ever be guilty about you because you give me so much and you want to take such good care of me and I guess it's just these moments when I realize he never wanted that.

  
“For us, it was always me cheering him up, me pushing him to be alive, me taking care of him when he decided he wanted to die, when he hurt himself.” He paused, “I loved him, Louis, I really, really did and I never thought anything of it. I wanted to help him. I _wanted_ to be that person for him, I never held it against him, but he never took care of me. I just fought for him over and over and he never really did the same, and I know that's what I've been doing to you and it's because I feel like I'm in limbo. I feel like I'm trapped halfway between being in love with him and with you,” and that was like a halfway, _iloveyou_ , right? I had to remind myself to breathe “But I think, if he were here now, I'd still choose you, Lou. I'd pick you because you always pick me and you're the best person I've ever known.”

  
I kissed the top of his head then, wanting to say something, but there was really nothing for me to say.

  
“But that makes me guilty, you know, because people expect me to pick him. I always promised I'd pick him.”

  
“I know,” I said, because making him feel understood was most important right now.

  
“And I'm sorry that I'm such shit at all of this and that I'm not brave enough to tell anyone but you,”

  
“All I need is you to tell me—fuck everyone else, Harry. For my eyes only, yeah?”

  
I felt him smile against my chest, “yeah,” he agreed.

 

…

  
It was 3:30 in the morning when I woke up to Harry whispering my name in my ear. Harry was an awful sleeper, but most of the time he let me rest and paced the flat on his own, but in this case, I understood his apprehension. He wasn't comfortable here.

  
I kissed him gently, “hey,” I said softly.

  
“Can we go for a drive?”

  
I yawned and nodded my head at the same time, “’course,”

  
He was already dressed in track pants and a jumper and he was holding my car keys. I got ready quickly and we snuck out of the house as quietly as we could.

 

Harry sat in the drivers seat and was quiet the whole way. The clock on the dash said 3:51 when he got onto the highway. I recognized this as the way we'd come into town. He turned down a dirt road and drove slowly, like he was apprehensive about where he was heading. I had an idea about where we were going, but it was confirmed when we drove passed a sign that said “Holmes Chapel Cemetary”. I put my hand on his lap instinctually, and he reached down to hold it instantaneously. We didn't speak as Harry parked the car, or even as he lead me through the graves with his flashlight pointing toward the ground. He held my hand the whole way.

  
Harry had had a lot of big moments with me. I'd been the first person since Ronnie that he'd kissed more than once. I'd been the first person to really make him laugh and forget his pain. I'd been the first person he'd slept with more than once and the first person he'd had a sleep over with. He'd told me things he hadn't ever told Niall and whispered secrets into my skin that he thought he'd take to his grave. I'd been the first person to meet his sister, the first to mix with his friends. He'd met my family, gave me a title and forgiven all of my premature confessions. Now I'd also been the first person he'd brought to Holmes Chapel, to meet his mother. I knew all this. These were all huge accomplishments that made my heart swell every time I thought of any of them singularly, but as a whole? They really rocked me to my core and made me feel like the luckiest person in the world.

  
Now, though, now he was about to bring me face to face with the boy he'd outlived, and the boy I'd been trying so hard to live up to. This was huge. It had been half a decade since Harry had been home, and I had to wonder how long it had been since he'd been _here_.

  
Finally, he pulled us to a stop and shined the light on a huge tombstone. I knew what I expected to see, but it still gave me an uneasy feeling. It was a double—twin—sized headstone and it sent a chill down my spine. The left side read _**Tessa Marie O’Neil—loving daughter, sister and friend.**_ In the centre was an etched photograph of the two of them smiling at each other. To the right read _**Ronald Landon O’Neil—loving son, brother, friend and boyfriend.**_ And _oh_ , there was Harry. Right there, mentioned on the stone and it kind of hit me all at once how deep the whole thing went. How much a part of each other they really were. I wanted there to be something I could say, but I was silent a long time, and Harry just kind of stared blankly at it, not speaking, not crying, not really reacting for a long time.

  
Finally, he sat down in front of the stone and I sat next to him. He wasn't holding my hand anymore. He just sat with his hands in his lap and stared at the tombstone. I heard his slow intake of breath and then:

  
“At first, when it happened, when I lived here, I came here a lot. I'd sit and write to him and take pictures and then Tessa got here and it felt nice to just be with them again, the three of us together like it always was.” I tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear as I watched him unravel his story, his memories of this place.

  
“There wasn't a stone then, just two piles of dirt and I little marker with their names,” he sighed harshly, maybe too overwhelmed to really feel much. “I hadn't been here, since they put it up. I didn't get to see it—I didn't realize it said that—the boyfriend thing. I'm sorry Lou,” he bowed his head then, but he wasn't crying.

  
“Don't be, Harry, why would you be sorry?”

  
“Because I didn't know, and everything is messy and it all feels weird and I didn't know it would say that. I didn't know to warn you or whatever,” he meant that no one had warned _him_. I knew that.

  
“Hey,” I said, scooting closer to him and draping my arm around him, “this isn't about me at all--it's about you guys. About everything you had. You don't have to warn me about that Harry. It just is what it is, you know? And he was— _is_ —yours,” I corrected, “and that's how it ended for him. Doesn't matter that maybe it will end different for you--because you got more chapters than him.” I looked at him then, his head still bowed toward the ground, “you don't get to rewrite the first chapters, and why would want you? I'm sure those first chapters—his last chapters--I'm sure they were all great and he had you and I know what it's like to love you—it's everything. Of course he'd want to be remembered for being lucky enough to be loved by you,”

  
I saw a tear roll down his cheek then and part of me hoped I hadn't said something stupid. Hadn't crossed a line, reminding him I loved him in a place that was really not about me.

  
He leaned into me then, his head on my shoulder and cried softly while I held him. I ran my fingers through his hair and mumbled a series of “it's okay” and “I'm here”s against him.

  
To be honest, the whole thing kind of felt like a sort of therapy. Like this was something we both needed. Like I needed to see how deep his scars were. I needed to better understand the person he was letting me try to live up to. Most of all though, I needed to see his pain, to see him actually feel it. To actually break down and feel the things he needed to feel so that he and I could rebuild. So that we could take all the bad, and all the good memories and turn them into something new, something bright. Something for us.

  
“I don't understand how you can always know the right thing to say,” he said when his body had finally stopped trembling.

  
“I don't,” I reassured him, “I just say everything, remember? Especially the things I'm not supposed to say. Those are my favourite,”

  
He kissed me then, soft and slow and hesitant.

  
It was one of the darkest moments we'd been in, to date, but it felt good. It felt right to be here with him, like this.

  
We sat quiet for another immeasurable amount of time. Finally, Harry reached out and ran his fingers across the etched photo on the grave.

  
He took my hand again and continued to trace the picture with his left hand.

  
“I took this picture,” he smiled a bit at that, “’bout a week before Ronnie died,” he squeezed my hand tighter, “they loved each other a lot. They weren't like normal siblings, they never fought. They were always on the same page,” he gestured to the photo, “they were just like this, laughing all the time.” He paused for a moment, “I'm glad she picked this picture,”

  
I pulled him into my arms again and squeezed him tightly against me. I felt so many millions of things that I didn't know what to say or what to do, so I just held him. It seemed enough for him. His face buried into my neck and he breathed deep and evenly.

  
“Thank you for bringing me here, Harry. Thank you for letting me see this,”

  
He held tighter then, “thank you,” he emphasized. “For helping me understand it. For what you said--it's everything. Thank you, Lou,”

  
I kissed the top of his head and rocked him slowly while he clung to me for the strength he couldn't find on his own.

 

Eventually, once the sun started to come up and once the batteries in his flashlight died, it was time to leave. Maybe Harry had gotten everything he needed for the night. I didn't know what it was, but we stood up and he hugged me again, whispering more thank yous against the top of my head. We made to leave, but he turned back around and kneeled in front of the stone again. His hand went to Ronnie's face. His breathing was jagged and I wasn't quite sure if he was crying again.

  
“I'm sorry I couldn't save you,” was all he said and the words rang in my ears until he spoke again, a full minute later. “I'm sorry, Ronnie, but I think Louis can save me and I think I might want to be saved,”

 

Back in the car, before he turned on the engine he looked over at me, his eyes literally glittering. Maybe it was from his tears, or the fact that he had effectively slept zero hours in the last two nights, but it was beautiful. I could see right into him. I saw everything he was feeling, all his pain and sadness, but most of all I saw him mirroring me. The affection in his eyes, the affection that was born because of me, _for_ me was more apparent than it had ever been. I could see so far inside of him, all the parts that were brave enough to feel what he felt, they were stronger in that moment than the parts that normally told him to doubt it.  
_I love you_. It was on the tip of my tongue, and I was about to test it out, but his mouth met mine first and he sucked the words off my tongue. He kissed me deep and I could taste everything he wasn't saying. I could feel everything he wasn't used to feeling, and I most of all I felt him reciprocate me feelings. Harry cared so much about me that he didn't have a clue what to do with it, but it was okay. It was okay because would take what he could give me, and I'd give him everything. His tongue fought against mine a a relentless, breath-stopping sort of way. This was it. I didn't need more, he didn't want more, he just showed me how he felt. His kisses were deep and bruising and they carried so many unsaid things. He wanted me to save him. He trusted me to be the one to save him, but really he'd already saved me. I had purpose where I'd previously had only aimless wandering. That was more. Harry gave me things too, even though he rarely saw it.

  
When he finally broke away from the kiss held his hand on my cheek, just looking at me again. Just mirroring my emotions.

  
“I want you to come meet Barbra,” he said then, and I nodded.

  
He turned on the car then and we drove up to a small bakery. I looked at him like he was mental.

  
“Now?” I said quickly, “it's 5:30 in the bloody morning Harry, let the poor woman sleep,”

  
He chuckled at that, “she gets in at 4:30 every day--she's wide awake, I promise,”

  
He pecked my lips quickly and hopped out of the car, literally looking about 50 kilograms lighter. His shoulders were no longer slumped and he seemed like he was no longer carrying around the same level of burden. Harry deserved this.

  
I followed him through the front doors of the bakery and he sang out “Barbra!” cheerfully and walked right behind the counter, towing me by the hand. In the back room stood an elderly woman, who was kneading a giant ball of dough. Her expression turned from pure joy to bawling within about .5 seconds of seeing Harry. She practically ran to him.

  
“Harry!” She scooped him into her arms and cried all over his shoulder and again I saw it. The world was in love with the light inside of Harry that he tried _so_ hard to convince everyone wasn't there.

  
Finally, she released him and stared at him, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Oh! You're so tall, and your hair is so long! So look so, so handsome Harry. You're all grown up. I've missed so much!” she cried.

  
Harry hugged her again, “missed you, too,” he said and then pulled me by the hand so I was standing right in front of her, “this is Louis,”

  
She smiled big and hugged me quickly, “welcome to Holmes Chapel, Louis,” she said brightly, focusing her attention back to Harry. “I heard about Robin, how is he?”

  
“Good, really good. Glad to see me,” Harry smiled then, “and he's coming home today. The doctor said he should be fine, just medication and diet changes,”

  
“So he won't be coming to get pastries every other day, then, will he?” Barbra's face was so happy and so light, like she was blessed just to be standing in the same room as Harry.

  
Harry just stared at her for a moment, taking her in. “Sorry I stopped calling,” he said finally.

  
She touched his cheek, “it's okay, love, I forgive you. It's just so good to finally see you home. It's been too many years,” she kissed his cheek and pointed to the sink. “Why don't you and Louis wash up and help me out, like old times,”

  
Harry nodded happily and he dragged me back to the sink and we washed our hands while Barbra hummed away. She pulled on a pair of gloves and went back to kneading the dough. The whole thing was kind of charming and perfect.

  
“Where do you want me?” He was so different. He was so genuine and so childlike as he looked over to Barbra. It was funny because she'd probably always see him as the tiny curly haired teenager from all the photos I saw. He's outgrown her by well over a foot and his voice was deep and gravelly and he had to shrink himself down to hug her properly, but I think in that moment, Harry saw himself as that tiny teenager too.

  
“Maybe you and Louis can ice a few cakes for me,” she said offhandedly, distracted with dividing the dough into loaf pans.

  
Harry chuckled dryly, “I'm gonna pass on that one, barb, I really don't think you want to see what kind of mess Louis’d make of your cakes,”

  
I elbowed him half heartedly, because, really, he was right.

  
She laughed at our exchange, “alright,” she amended her instructions, “crack those eggs and give them a whisk then, would, ya?”

  
The task was notably easier, but I dropped countless shells into the bowl as I cracked them and listened to Harry and Barbra talk.

  
“How's London?” She questioned.

  
“Perfect,” he said simply, “everything I wanted it to be,”

  
She smiled, “and where are you living?”

  
“With flatmates, but I still spend a lot of time at Niall's,” he said while he fished out the millionth piece of egg shell for me. “Louis has his own flat, so I stay there a lot too,”

  
Barbra’s eyes met mine then and they sparkled just like Anne's had. “That's so good to hear, Harry,”

  
He smiled at me then and bumped his hip against mine, “Louis’ good to me,”

  
“That's because you're an absolute treasure, H," again she smiled at me. I grinned back like and idiot because Harry was even more open now than he'd been with his mum and Gemma.

  
The eggs were all in the bowl by then, and Harry had taken out every bit of shell i had dropped in. Barbra tossed me a whisk then and I held it tentatively, staring down at the bowl. Harry's hand was on my lower back as he stood next to me.

  
“Just whisk that up and you're off duty,” she pulled off her gloves and began walking to the stove. “I'll start the tea,”

  
The moment she turned away I leaned toward Harry and whispered loudly, “how do you whisk?”

  
His laughter came quickly and he wrapped his hand around mine, using his other hand to tilt the bowl slightly.

  
“Please tell me you're joking, Louis,” called Barbra from the stove.

  
Harry moved my hand in what I could only assume was a “whisking” motion.

  
“he's not,” answered Harry, still chuckling happily, “the boy doesn't even own a whisk. I have to use a fork every time I make pancakes at his flat,”

  
He was teasing me. He was talking about me to someone he loved and the fondness in his voice was inescapable. He could tease me forever if he sounded like that.

  
“Good lord, Louis, what would your mother say?” Barbra laughed.

  
“Don't think Mum has a whisk either. And if she does, it's probably because of her husband. I was raised on frozen lasagnas and takeaway, I'm afraid. Mum definitely didn't have any cooking skills to pass on,”

  
“Well, now you have Harry,”

  
I smiled up at Harry as he released my hand from the task of whisking, which was apparently now complete. He kissed me on the cheek and all kinds of things happened to my insides. Barbra smiled at us.

  
“Lucky for that,” I said.

  
“Besides,” reasoned Harry, “he might not be able to cook, but the man’s a human phone book for takeaway numbers, which is pretty much the same thing,” he teased, this time kissing me softly on the lips.

After that, we sat down at the table with Barbra and laughed about the shenanigans that he and Ronnie got into as teenagers when they'd worked for her. She told me about how Harry had always been one of her favourite people in the world and how much joy he'd always brought to her life before he'd left.

  
“He used to sing to whatever was on the radio while he swept at the end of the night. He's a terrible dancer, but always good for a laugh,” they were both smiling at the memory. “Everyone loved seeing him here, he was really the star of this place. Everyone was crushed when he went off to uni, especially all the ladies with crushes on him. He was so contagious, our Harry was,” he looked to me again, “broke my heart when he left,”

 

…

  
It was just after 7 by the time we got back to Anne's house. Harry yawned big as he turned off the engine. We walked into the house and saw Gemma and Anne sitting at the table with tea. Anne gave me that smile again as I walked in.

  
“Louis, Harry!” She called, sipping her tea.

  
“Where the hell did you sneak off to?” Gemma asked.

  
“Went to see Ronnie and then helped Barbra at the bakery for a bit,”

  
Anne choked a bit on her tea at the indifference in Harry's voice as he casually dropped a giant grenade into the room.

  
“Well, _Harry_ helped,” I said, giving Anne a moment to collect herself, “I went for the world record of ‘most egg shells dropped into a bowl at any one time’” Gemma laughed, proper, “and then Harry taught me how to whisk,”

  
“You made it to 26 without learning how to whisk?” Gemma joked.

  
“No, actually, I made it to 26 without knowing what the weird oval thing with a bunch of holes in it was,”

  
Anne’s tension was eased then, and Harry had taken a seat next to Gemma. He rested his head against her shoulder, yawning again.

  
“Think I'm gonna shower and we should nap, Lou,” he said softly, while Gemma stroked his hair.

  
“It's seven in the morning,” said Gemma.

  
“Well, I was up more than half the night,” he argued.

  
“Do what you have to,” she said, “but dad wants us to go over for tea at noon, wants to meet Louis and all that,”

  
“Gemma,” croaked Harry, obviously protesting that his father had prior warning of my existence.

  
“Don't bitch at me, was mum that spilled,”

  
“Why were you even talking to dad, mum?” Harry rolled his eyes fondly, like this was something that had come up on many occasions.

  
“To tell him about Louis,” she said matter of factly.

  
“You're the most annoying family in the world,” he groaned and got out of his seat. He kissed my cheek as he walked by and announced he was going to shower.

  
Anne nodded to the chair next to her and I sat down. She made me a cuppa and sat back down with Gemma and I.

  
“So you met mum, you met Barbra, you kind of met Ronnie, Des is on deck,” said Gemma, narrowing her eyes at me, “overwhelmed yet?”

  
I shook my head, “nah, it's been great. All of it,” I shrugged.

  
“You're too much, Louis Tomlinson,”

  
Anne rubbed my shoulder softly, “can't believe it,” she said to Gemma, “Harry's got a proper boyfriend and he wasn't even going to tell me,”

  
“First off, the boy can't even whisk, I'd hardly call him proper,” she winked at me before continuing, “and second, don't feel special Mum, he tried to hide it from me too. But Louis’ easy to read. I knew he was gone for Harry the second I saw them look at each other.” Anne smiled at me again, like it was totally okay of me to be in love with her baby, she didn't mind sharing him at all. “Suppose, though, even with the whole whisk thing, Harry did pretty well for himself,”

  
I felt my phone vibrate then. I pulled it out to see it was Niall. I excused myself and walked into Harry's room to answer it.

  
“Nialler lad,”

  
“Louis what the fuck,” he said angrily, “Gemma texted me so many times saying there was an emergency and Harry won't answer my god damn calls. Are you two doing that thing you do where you fuck for a few days straight and forget the rest of us exist?”

  
“Well, good morning to you too, Horan, I'm well thanks for asking,” I yawned as I said the statement.

  
“Louis I swear to god,” he warned as I watched Harry walk into the room wearing just a towel. I raised my eyebrows at him suggestively, “he's right here actually, I'll let him explain,” I said handing my phone to Harry, mouthing Niall at him.

  
“Hey Ni,” pause, “no, I'm home. At mum’s,” I could hear a string of curses from Niall's end and then Harry shrugged, like Niall could see, “Robin had a heart attack, I didn't really have a choice. Louis drove me,” pause, “yeah, he stayed,” Harry shook his head left to right, again, as though Niall could see him, “’s been good,”

  
Harry said approximately 4 more words and then hung up the phone and handed it back to me.

  
“All good?” I asked, grabbing him by the waist, moving to to unravel his towel.

  
He batted my hands away, laughing. “I think Niall's jealous I brought you,” he gasped a bit as I pulled him against me.

  
I kissed his neck, dragging my tongue across his warm, wet skin, “do you wish Niall was here instead of me?” I whispered against him, running my hands slowly across his abs. Sure, I'd felt Harry dozens of times in plenty of places, but I didn't mean I was any less amazed by every inch of him. Any less impressed at how prefect his flesh felt under my hands. I slid my hands back to the towel, this time he let me undo it. He rarely took much convincing. I slid my teeth along his neck.

  
“N-no,” he sighed, wrapped his arms around me, “no, I don't wish _Niall_  was here,”

  
I kissed him then, my hands migrating to his ass cheeks. He laughed into the kiss.  
“Thought we were napping?”

  
I pushed him toward the bed, “we were…and then you came in wearing just a towel and that really wasn't very fair was it?” I kissed him again, “I'll be quick,” I promised, gripping his face between both of my hands, “besides, if we have a go now, it'll save us from waking up to squeeze it in before lunch with Des,”

  
He kissed me hard at that.

But, I was a horrible liar and clearly bad about predicting the future, because I was definitely woken up early to Harry's lips on my cock, and we definitely went another round before lunch.

…

  
Gemma drove this time. It wasn't a long drive, but a stressful one as Harry coached me on his father. To date, I'd really only cared about what Robin would think of me, but Harry had a way of working me up.

  
“My dad isn't a bad guy, nothing wrong with him really, he just wasn't around as much. I came out to him and it was a bit awkward because he knew Ronnie and all. He didn't seem mad about me being gay, I just don't think he likes people much. He's never liked any of gem’s boyfriends and he really didn't like Ronnie much, so don't try to hard. I gave up caring what he thinks years ago,”

  
Well, that was motivational. I could always count on Harry for the reverse of a pep-talk.  
Once we'd pulled into the driveway, Gemma and Harry led the way up to Des’ apartment. He lived alone in walk-up building. When we were outside of the door I heard music playing loudly inside. I knew that song. Harry looked at me and smiled knowingly.

  
Des opened the door then and pulled Harry into his arms quickly, “missed you, lad, it's been years since you've seen your old man,”

  
“Yeah, miss you too, dad,” Harry said softly.

  
They broke apart and he hugged Gemma, “Dad, what kind of garbage are you listening to in here” she complained marching through the door.

  
“No Control,” he shrugged, “it's a hit and I thought it was what you kids would be into,”

  
“Well I'm not a kid and this song is rubish,"

  
Harry was laughing now, his eyes sparkling. “Louis wrote this song, Gems,”

  
She pulled an apologetic face, “whoops,”

  
Des wrapped an arm very unexpectedly around my shoulders, “you don't say?” He sounded a bit impressed, which seemed to contradict the warning Harry had given me in the car, “your boy writes songs?” He asked Harry. Yup. Harry was an utterly horrible judge of character. Des was fine.

  
“Yeah, Dad,” he said watching us, Des’ arm still around my shoulders.

  
“Bet you write all kinds of songs about this one,” he said thumbing toward Harry.

  
I nodded, “actually, yeah,”

  
“Harry's worth at least a thousand songs,” Des said, finally moving from me and closing the front door.

  
“A million, I reckon,” I said, looking at Harry who was half excited beyond belief and half blushing.

 

And that's how easy it happened. Des was easier than Anne (and that said a lot). Lunch went perfectly, really. We all laughed like it was the millionth time we'd sat at the table together. Gemma told Des the whisk story and he told me he'd only learned about whisks after his divorce, which made Gemma and Harry tease us both even more relentlessly. Des was a big fan of football, and it was nice to have someone other than Niall to talk about it with. Finally, Harry got up to use the loo and Des leaned across the table to dramatically whisper to me.

  
“Never thought I'd like a boy these kids brought ‘round, but you're a good one, Tomlinson,”

  
“Dad!” Harry scolded from the entrance way, having heard the whole exchange.

  
Des shrugged, “what can I say, kiddo, I like the lad. Don't mess it up, Haz,”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Harry said dryly and Des messed his hair playfully.  
I liked it here, in every part of Holmes Chapel Harry had shown me.

 

...

 

By the time we returned from lunch, Robin was already home. It caught me off guard when I saw him sitting next to Anne on the couch. The three of us entered the room, but Robin’s eyes only followed me.

  
“Louis Tomlinson,” he said quickly and I nodded, moving to shake his hand, but instead he trapped me in a tight hug. “It's about damn time you met our Harry. We've been waiting years for you,”

  
I wanted to cry or something, because weren't dads and stepdads supposed to be tougher? I felt like, if I still spoke to my father much, he would have at least given Harry a hard time for the first sentence. The men in Harry's life seemed content with just the idea of me existing.

  
“Good to meet you,” I said honestly.

  
“Thank you for bringing our boy home,”

  
Robin was kind of just like a giant teddy bear and I remembered one of the pictures Anne had shown me with a tall and lanky Harry curled neatly against Robin’s side, snuggled in tightly. I loved this place, I really did. Everywhere just kept feeling like home and I couldn’t help think that it was because Harry was starting to feel like home.

  
“Harry's been telling me so much about you,” said Robin, “your sister, Lottie, she sounds like a real sweetheart. Your mum, too. Anne and I’d love to meet them one day, that giant family of yours.”

  
Harry had spent hours inside of the hospital with Robin, and I hadn't much thought about what they might have discussed, but even if I had, I seriously doubted my imagination would have stretched this far. Harry had shocked me more times that I was able to recover from at this point. He'd filled me with so much and he'd effectively erased any doubt I possessed by this point. Anne, Ronnie, Barbra, Des, Robin--he'd been honest with them all. He'd been more than honest, actually. He'd bragged, he'd gushed, he'd paraded me around and he hadn't made one single excuse for being with me. If I wasn't already overwhelmed with feelings of pride, the flattery might have overwhelmed me.

  
Suffice to say that the last 36 hours had done nothing but further cement everything I already knew. First and foremost, we worked. It was simple, easy and every single person around us could see it, and maybe Harry was finally starting to believe it? Second, if there had even been a shred of a doubt anywhere that I wanted to spend the rest of my life proving these things to Harry, there was now definitely none. Third, most importantly, I was gone, gone, _gone_ for Harry and everyone saw it and everyone didn't mind. Not the way Harry had assumed they would. Fourth, Harry could be saved, and he wanted to be--he'd even told Ronnie. We were real. We were strong. And I was so, so I'm love with this bright, childishly happy version of Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple notes: 
> 
> First, there are 3 chapters left and I hope to write them quickly, but I am a slave to inspiration, so let's hope whatever inspired me to write for the last 13 straight hours sticks with me.
> 
> Second, because I'm nearing the end of this one, I've begun to consider where I'll be taking my next fic. My best friend and I discussed it and she likes the idea of me doing a spin off of this one and writing Liam and Zayn's story, any thoughts on this? Does anyone even care about Liam and Zayn???


	25. Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost at the finish line, which is weird for me to say. I've been in Toronto for the week visiting with my best friend and my best writing support so I've got everything planned out. Part of the next chapter is written and I'm feeling pretty good! I still have three more days of vacation to wrap this up, so here's hoping the writing gods are with me!
> 
> Song inspo for this chapter:
> 
> First bit-- Fix You by Coldplay
> 
> The rest-- Stay with Me by Sam Smith  
> Fool's Gold by 1D  
> Long Way Down by 1D

_**Louis** _

 

On our third day in Holmes Chapel, Anne sent Harry and I out to the grocery store to pick up wine and pasta. Harry drove and we made out in the parking lot for 10 minutes before we finally entered the store. Harry towed me down the aisles and laughed loudly at all of my dumb jokes. Down the hardware aisle, I made Harry try on about six different construction hats and did a full dance routine with a plunger as my cane.

  
“You're literally the most embarrassing person I've met in my entire life,” he said, taking me into his arms and rocking me back and forth. He kissed me and swallowed my responding chuckles. He took my hand in his again and started walking forward, “we need pasta,” he said it like he was the adult who was bringing us back to reality and not the foolish boy who had just had me in hysterics during his fashion show.

  
Half way to the pasta, I heard someone call out to Harry.

  
“Harry?” The voice was female, “oh my god, Harry Styles, is that you?”

  
Harry stopped short and looked at the woman standing with a box of linguini in her hand. She dropped the pasta on the ground and made a bee-line for Harry.  
“Tara,” he said while she swept him into her arms.

  
Tara, that was a name Harry hadn’t mentioned. He hadn't said anything about her, but she was bawling on his shoulder as he wrapped his free arm around her. He didn't drop my hand, and I just kind of stood there stupidly, waiting to find out who Tara was and what she had invested in Harry.

  
When she finally released him all she said was, “you were the last person I expected to see out today,”

  
He smiled at her, a fondness sparkling in his eyes.

  
“You look so good, Harry, so healthy,” her eyes flickered to me then and then back to Harry, “it's so bloody good to see you, baby,”

  
Her eyes were glassy as she stared at him with all the adoration in the world. “I heard about Robin…” She started, “but Anne and I don't talk much anymore—never really—and I wasn't sure you'd come home. I mean it's been so long. Everyone missed you so much, Harry,”

  
He nodded then, “I know, love,” he said, taking her hand tentatively in his free one, “I've been missing you, too,”

  
“You just, you look, GOOD, Harry. Like properly healthy,”

  
They were silent a moment and just kind of gazed at each other like a million moments had passed between them and they didn't need to speak about any of it. Which was confusing because I'd never heard a single mention of Tara. Finally, Harry caught her staring at me. He released my hand and placed it on the small of my back.

  
“This is Louis,” his voice was so calm, so relaxed, “my boyfriend,”

  
Okay. Calm and relaxed as Harry was, those were two words I could never use to describe myself—maybe ever again. Of all the people I'd met in Holmes Chapel, including his father and his parents, Harry had not once given me such an introduction. He didn't even use to word to reference me to _Niall_. What was air? What was breathing? I didn't know. I was floating. Things were alive in the pit of my stomach and I felt on the near edge of a full-blown panic.

  
She didn't even look at me then, not after that introduction. Instead she looked at Harry with so much pride I might have thought he'd told her he'd gotten 3 PhDs and cured cancer, not just that he had a _boyfriend_.

  
“Lou, this is Ronnie's mom, Tara,”

  
Alright. Panic was a thing. Panic was a thing I was feeling _very_ well at that moment. Yeah, the word boyfriend was a bomb, but casually name dropping that this woman was Ronnie's mother? That was a nuclear holocaust.

  
I hadn't been afraid to meet a single person yet, but I had certainly not been properly prepared to run into _her_. This was the woman who's son he'd loved and promised to marry and the person he thought would be his children's grandmother. This was the woman who had given him the person who changed his life and this was the person who he'd torn up those stairs with to find the boy they loved hanging. This was the woman he stood next to when they buried her son, and then again, stood next to while they buried her daughter. This woman was the embodiment of loss. I was terrified.

  
But, just like everyone else, she looked to Harry and smiled. She smiled big and it looked out of place on a woman as worn by the years as she looked. It defied all of the frown lines littering her face, and the sparkle in her eyes began to overtake the hard lines by their edges. She was like a stone carving, etched by years of sleeping like shit, yet in that second, Harry had reminded her face how to be light again.

  
“Louis,” she said, and touched his cheek, “you have a Louis,” and another tear rolled down her cheek, “I'm--that's so good, Harry. So, so, good my love,”

  
Was that a hint of pity in Harry's eyes? _pity_ for this woman? But there was no soul-crushing guilt. He just felt bad for her, the shell of a woman in front of him. The woman who lost all the same things that he did, but who had never left this town. She'd stayed and went to sleep and woke up surrounded by her twins. She hadn't gotten the distance, hadn't had a moment to forget and grow and heal—and Harry had, and he felt sad for her. Not bad for leaving and growing and healing.

  
The world made no sense.

  
“Yes,” said Harry, voice heavy and slow, “he is. He is good. So good,”

  
They stared at each other for an extremely long time, Harry still holding her hand and tears still falling from her eyes. Harry's hand was still warm against my back and for once in my life, I couldn't think of one thing to say—let alone enough to fill the massive gap that existed here.

  
Finally, perfectly out of character, Harry chose to say something with depth. Something that involved feeling and emotions—his _own_ feelings and emotions.

  
“The stone is nice,” it came out rushed, “the picture, the words. I hadn't seen it before—I couldn't.” He paused and I saw him tighten his grip on her hand, “thank you,”

  
She nodded, but remained quiet for a long time.

  
“You mum must be so happy to have you here. We all lost so much when you left,” her breath shook, “everyone thought it was the worst for me, but it was so bad for you, for Anne. I didn't just lose them, I lost you too. You died Harry and you were still alive. I couldn't even look at you. It just hurt so much, and your poor mother had to grieve you when you were standing right in front of her. It was all too much. It doesn't make sense to lose so many things all at once. I didn't think we'd ever see you again Harry,” she pawed relentlessly at her eyes as each tear fell, “and here you are,” sob, “just standing there in front of me and you're alive again. You're _Harry_ again—and you have a Louis,”

  
He smiled then, a proper dimply bright smile, “ _Because_ I have a Louis,” he amended.

  
She looked to me then, “there's so many of us,” she started, “so many people who got to watch Harry grow up and so many of us who fell so in love with him. So many of us who lost so much when we lost him. I never thought I'd see light in his eyes again. I never thought he'd be _this_ Harry again. You should know that the whole world owes you thanks if you brought even a part of him back,”

  
And that might have been the very first moment in my entire life that I, Louis Tomlinson, was completely speechless. I hadn't have a sweet clue what to say to her or what I ever wanted to say.

  
Besides all that, I didn't know what was happening with Harry. He'd called me his boyfriend—which, fine, we'd established that…but? He'd basically just credited me entirely with fixing him, when two days ago he'd been avoiding me like the bubonic plague. Everything was so big and so heavy and so important. Now it really mattered what I might say. It was utterly horrifying.

  
She touched my shoulder softly and smiled brightly into my eyes, “it's good, Louis, all good,” she was reassuring me like she knew all about the crisis happening inside of my skull. “I'm happy for our Harry. I'm happy for you, because you're really the lucky one, aren't you?”

  
Instantly I was nodding, because yes, I was lucky. I was so lucky that Harry let me love him. That he let me come here and see his old life and meet the people he loved. I was lucky that Harry gave me so many reasons to want to be strong.

  
“So lucky,” I agreed.

  
And then we shared a triangle of fond stares back and forth. Tara staring from me to Harry with a smile. Harry and I grinning like kids at each other and then back to her and it was all really nice. Harry's fingers were wound back through mine and at some point Tara had decided to rescue the box of linguini she’d dropped.

  
She looked calm, her eyes were peaceful and the smile still tugged at the corners of her mouth as she looked at us standing together. Finally, she looked back to Harry, her eyes locked on his.

  
“This is good Harry, seeing you together. Seeing you happy. I didn't know how much I needed to know that my last kid was going to be all right,”

  
Harry's eyes sparkled at the words, like he'd expected her to hate be just on the very principle that I wasn't her son. But he was wrong. He was horribly wrong and I could see that everything she said was genuine. I could see that everything she'd said, and everything his family and Barbra had said were all genuine and Harry wouldn't ever have believed it if he hadn't have come her and experienced it. He needed to know that people could forgive him. And forgive wasn't really the right word was it? No one had to forgive him because only Harry felt he owed a loyalty to Ronnie beyond his life. Everyone else knew it was okay for him to move on. There was no need for forgiveness because this was just the way it was. Harry was an adult version of the boy they'd known, and he had his life together. All they saw was the whole picture, not the minor detail that Ronnie was no longer the thing that brought him joy.

  
Harry had become like a Phoenix. He'd risen from the ashes of a horrible trauma that defined him in a lot of ways. Now he was older, stronger, smarter and wiser. He hadn't gotten an easy go of things, but that was part of the reason his success was so astounding. Instead of crumpling in the wake of his great loss, he was now soaring and making everyone but his foolish, blind self, proud.

  
“When do you go back?” He asked softly.

  
“Tomorrow morning, I think. I've got a wedding this weekend and some work this week and Louis needs to get back to the studio a bit before he leaves for LA.”

  
She took his hand again, “well, now that you've come home, I really hope it's not another 5 years before we see you again,” she sighed, “but if you do come back, I'd love if—well, I moved…since—since everything and I'm not in the house anymore and it would be really nice if you and Louis would come ‘round for dinner some time,”

  
He let go of my hand then, and pulled her into his arms. Again she teared up a little, but Harry had a way with hugs. And by that I obviously mean that he was the very best in the world at giving them. He leaned down and wrapped her up completely, rocking her slowly back and forth.

  
“We would love that, wouldn't we, Lou?” His voice was so bright.

  
“Make us a reservation,” I affirmed.

 

...

When we were back in London, Harry went back to work. Things went back to what we both found normal, but the closeness we'd achieved in Holmes Chapel stayed with us in those first couple of days. Harry let me take him out for dinner, unpacked into my dresser instead of his own and we watched movies while cuddled together on the couch at Niall's. Liam, Zayn and Niall had seen us plain as day by this point and Harry didn't show any signs of backing down.

  
It was nine days until I was supposed to leave to record in LA and, as expected, Harry did a pretty fantastic job of avoiding the subject. Every time I tried to broach it he brushed it off. I still, obviously, wanted Harry to come with me. I wanted weeks of perfect weather and to watch Harry's skin glow in the heat of the LA sun, but I also knew it was a pretty big commitment on his part. I knew it was scary for him to be away from his support systems and to commit to relying on no one but me, but by this point it seemed pretty obvious that we were fine. We worked and he had nothing to be leery about. It would be a fantastic break in a beautiful place where he wouldn't have to think or stress about anything, so I really couldn't understand his resistance.

  
It was Friday morning and Harry and I were showering together. He was lathering my hair playfully and kissing my neck. His whole being was lighter and happier, so much so that his voice was almost completely different than it was when we'd first met.

  
“Lou?”

  
“Harold,”

  
“Niall and Liam and Zayn and I were gonna go out for drinks tonight,” he began, now hugging me from behind and resting his head on my shoulder while I tried to rinse my hair. “You're gonna come with, right?”

  
“Can't,” I said regretfully, (very regretfully because this was also new, because Harry never used to invite me out in public, least of all when he'd be drinking and undoubtedly hanging off of me as he usually did) (also, it was pretty impossible to deny him anything he wanted when he called me ‘Lou’—I don't really know what it was about the name that did it for me). “We've gotta finish three more songs at the studio before I head to LA and I suspect it will probably be a few all nighters,”

  
He spun me around and kissed me softly, a pout on his face, no doubt playing up the fact that he knew I was totally wrapped, “well if you finish early, come meet us,”  
“Promise,” I said, kissing him again, deeper.

From 8 when Harry and Niall first met up at his flat until about 10, I received a very normal amount of texts from Harry, mostly begging me to wrap it up so I could go out with them. I wanted to, but the state of the song Julian and I were working on told me that all hope of that was gone. Then, after 10, was when I could only assume Harry's alcohol started to really kick in because he bombarded me with bread emojis, eggplants paired with peaches and all kinds of adorable things like **_Zayn and  Liam are so cute, do you think we look that cute?_**   or **_Zayn has these eyes. He only gives them to Liam. Do I do that?_**   followed by countless **_I really miss you, Lou_** sand **_Niall just took three tequila shots and didn't even flinch. Fucking Irishmen._**

  
Harry's texts kept me amused for most of the evening. I slipped out of the studio around 11:30 because Harry had called me 3 times in a row.

  
“You okay?” I asked immediately.

  
I could hear the smile in his voice, “Lou, Boo Bear!” He said happily, “’course I'm okay, jus’ lonely is all,” his voice was slurred, but he was so inviting I found myself laughing and clutching the phone to my ear like a preteen talking to my crush for the first time.

  
“Where are you, love? Why are you lonely, where's Nialler?”

  
“’S ‘cause you're not here is why I'm lonely,” he hiccupped for emphasis, “I'm in a taxi, Niall's in the backseat beside Liam who currently has his tongue most of the way down Zayn’s esophagus,”

  
I chuckled, “I miss you, Haz, call me if you need anything, okay?”

  
“Mmm,” he said, “I don't want you to go away, Louis,”

  
“Harry,” I sighed and Julian shot me a look for the amount of sickly sweet fondness in my voice.

  
“I'm just gonna miss you too much, won't I?”

  
“Not as much as I'll miss you,”

  
Laugh, “you don't always have to be so bloody competitive.” Hiccup.

  
“Can't help that I'm the best at missing, now can I Harold?"

  
He laughed again and I could hear Niall yelling in the background, “Louuuuuu,” he stretched my name out and I could only smile like the smitten idiot I was.

  
“Harry, go have fun, yeah? Call me later when you're done and take care of Niall,”

  
“Goodbye Boo Bear,”

  
“Goodbye Harold,”

He hiccupped again and started talking to Niall without hanging up. I realized I was still grinning at my phone after I'd taken it away from my ear when Julian tapped me on the shoulder.

  
“Romeo’s pretty pissed it sounds like,”

  
“Excuse you,” I began, “his name is _Harry_ and pissed as he may be, he's the sweetest drunk boy in the world and you owe at least a dozen songs to our fateful meeting,”

  
“You're cute when you're in love,” he pinched my cheek.

  
I slapped away his hand, “I'm not cute, I'm tough and manly, innit?”

  
We both laughed at that because, in reality, I probably was pretty cute.

 

For the next few hours, while Julian and I mixed and played back the song over and over until it barely sounded like words, Harry happily texted me every insignificant event that happened at the bar. Around one, Julian and I took a break. I scrolled through the texts Harry had been sending me, but they tapered off. He was probably too drunk and having too much fun to bother texting me, which was fine. I pressed play on the song again, trying to figure out how much longer we would be. All I could think about was the fact that in nine days—eight really, it was now passed one in the morning—I was leaving. I wanted to meet Harry at my flat when he was ready to leave, but it seemed impossible. Julian was already fast asleep on the sofa and I was dangerously close to filling the soundboard with drool if I kept leaning on my arms the way I was. I was exhausted. I felt like I hadn't left the studio in days.

  
I opened my conversation with Harry and tapped out a message, “I don't think I'm leaving the studio tonight. I'll take you out for breakfast in the morning. Snuggle Niall and stay safe xx.”

  
I yawned and leaned back in my chair and I was asleep almost instantly.

 

Around four, Julian woke me up again. I checked my phone, but there was only one text and it was from Niall. Harry’s phone died. **_We are at my place. Have fun at the studio._**  
My heart fell a bit, because Harry had been keeping my spirits up for most of the night, but I tried not to take his fun night out personally. It was okay for Harry to have fun when I wasn't there. I wasn't irrational, I just missed him.

 

Around 7:30, Julian and I called it a day. The sun was up, and we were completely out of ideas. We needed to rest, and I needed to see Harry. I left the studio and grabbed McDonald's breakfast before I headed up to Niall and Liam's flat. Zayn opened the door for me.

  
“Hey mate,” he said flatly. His eyes were bloodshot and purple bags clung underneath them. Instead of looking like a hungover train wreck, he looked artfully disheveled, like he belonged on a magazine cover for rich kids who partied too hard. Zayn was a bit exhausting sometimes.

  
“Harry still in bed?”

  
Zayn nodded silently and took off to Liam's room. I walked to Niall's room and opened the door slowly. The room was still pitch black and Niall was hunched over and scrolling through his phone. Harry's face was buried under a pillow and he moaned as the light from the living room crept in.

  
“Too bright Zayn, turn off the sun,”

  
I chuckled lightly and Niall's eyes met mine. They weren't bright and cheerful though, they were cloudy and disappointed looking. Everyone in this flat seemed utterly miserable.

  
“Not Zayn, sorry to disappoint, Harold. But I did bring greasy breakfast and a smoothie,” I offered.

  
Harry just groaned.

  
“Think he out drank me last night. Wasn't a pretty scene,” said Niall, no hint of laughter in his voice. “It was all fine and good when he was laughing and pouting about missing you, but the tears and puking? Definitely didn't sign up for that,”

  
Harry's hand shot out and smacked Niall in the shoulder, “speak less,” he ordered.

  
I smiled at Harry, all crumpled up in the blankets, hung over as all hell. I'd missed a fun night. Being an adult with responsibilities sucked.

  
“How are you feeling?” I asked Harry after handing the bag of McDonald's to Niall who grinned like I was a godsend. I sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to rub Harry's back slowly.

  
“Oh, God, please don't touch me, Louis,” he moaned again.

  
Suddenly he shot up out of the bed and ran for the bathroom. I heard him slam the door and tried not to listen while he emptied his stomach.

  
Niall met my gaze then, hash brown stuck to his lips, “Harry was a proper douche last night. I'm pissed he's too hungover to yell at,” he took a bite of the breakfast sandwich and looked at me seriously, “if I were you,” he started, “I would just go home now. Get some sleep, let me sort him out and I'll call you and let you know when you should pick him up,”

  
I raised my eyebrows at him, not really understanding what he meant.

  
“What I mean, Tommo, is that Harry had a bad night. A bad night concerning you and he's probably going to need a voice of reason for a bit before he's ready to talk to you about it. He's not gonna talk to you unless I make him, get it?”

  
Niall was strangely cool and I didn't like that he wasn't telling me what was really going on.

  
“Why don't you just tell me now?”

  
“Can't, friend code and all that. I'm not gonna betray his trust, ya feel?” He balled up the wrapper from his sandwich and tossed it on the floor by the bed, “but I'll do you the favour, I'll deal with it, tell him what he needs to hear and send him your way.”

  
I was utterly confused and too tired to pretend to be friendly, “Niall you're being cryptic as fuck and it's annoying to be honest. He'll talk to me, he does that now, you know? He tells me everything,”

  
I felt pretty insecure about the words I was saying because before Niall had opened his mouth, I'd believed them. Now, though, I felt insecure and stupid, like I was trying to convince everyone about something they knew way better than me. It was unnerving to look at Niall and hear the things he was saying. And it couldn't be true, could it? Not after everything we'd been through. Not when he'd finally made me believe he was ready.

  
“Well, he's not gonna talk to you about this. I can promise you that. Now, you can stay here and crowd him and make him uncomfortable, or you can go and let me deal with it for you,” Niall was cutting and I couldn't tell who his exasperation was aimed at.

  
I wanted to argue, because I was not the sort of person who walked away from anything—let alone the one person on earth I cared that deeply about.

  
But then Niall's door opened and Harry padded back in, looking a bit like roadkill. He flopped back onto the bed, and gave me all the reassurance I needed when he wrapped his arms around Niall and hid his face against Niall's side. He didn't even acknowledge me. I wanted to scream because I couldn't believe for a second that I was back here. Niall shot me an ‘I told you so’ look and I felt like a fucking moron. Rage boiled beneath my skin because I had no idea what had happened while they'd been drinking but I kind of hated both of them for fucking it up.

  
I reached out and put my hand on Harry's shoulder, “I'm gonna go now, Harry. I'll be at my flat until later when I head back to the studio. You need to come by, yeah? Come tell me about your night and all that,”

  
I tried to sound firm, but normal. I had Goosebumps down my back.

  
“Bye Louis, thanks for the breakfast,” he sounded completely flippant, like he didn't give a single fuck who he was saying goodbye to.

  
I felt nothing but anger as I rose from the bed and walked toward the front door. My body weighed a ton and I couldn't even lift my head to acknowledge Zayn and Liam as I walked out of the flat. All I wanted was to fall asleep and forget this whole mess.

 

When I woke up, it was shortly after 2 pm. Julian and I weren't meeting until 7, so I had some time to attempt to process what the fuck was going on in my life. I picked up my phone and looked at my notifications. I had 3 texts from Lottie, one from mum and zero from Harry _or_   Niall who was also, now, a huge source of exasperation for me.

  
What the fuck happened last night? Why hadn't Harry come back to my flat with me so we could have slept away the day together? Nothing made sense because he'd practically begged me to go out last night, but he knew I had to work. Surely he wasn't immature enough to be mad at me for not going? That didn't seem like Harry at all.

  
I unlocked my phone and opened up my texts from Harry. I wanted to say a lot of things, but I settled for simplicity. I'd go after Niall, I decided, for the information I needed.  
 ** _Still alive?_** I asked

  
He responded in less than 30 seconds with one word: **_affirmative_**

  
  ** _Can I pick you up?_**

  
The second question was met by chilling silence. Silence that got into my bones and made me simmer with rage as I showered alone, which now also sucked a great deal. Harry was better at washing my hair than I was. I was lonely and it had only been a few hours. I contemplated going back to bed, but I didn't want to lay there thinking about things. Maybe I'd just head to work early.

  
Then my phone rang. Hope that it was Harry was the first thing I felt, and it hurt even though I knew it wouldn't be, when I saw Liam's name across the screen.

  
“Zayn and I are getting pizza, you down? Wanna come by?” Liam sounded so calm and so at ease. He'd been there, though. He must have known what happened with Harry and Niall.

  
“Harry still there?”

  
“Yeah man, he's still here, figured we'd get pizza and watch a movie together or whatever,”

  
Liam was clueless.

  
“Did Harry ask you to invite me?”

  
“I honestly haven't spoken to him. Only time he's left Niall's room was to puke, so, _no_.”

  
I sighed slowly, “yeah, I better not. We’ll hang out another day. I've got work soon anyway,”

  
Liam's confusion sounded genuine, “are you avoiding Harry?”

  
I heard mumbled words in the background and a slight scuffle before Zayn's voice came on.

  
“What's going on mate, why don't you want to see Harry?”

  
I sighed again, “I don't know to be honest. He doesn't want to see me,”

  
“Oh for fucks sake,” Zayn said and Liam came back on the line. “He just took off to Niall's room,” Liam laughed affectionately, “have a good night at the studio bro, I'll come by this week.”

  
“Deal,” I said before hanging up the phone.

  
I stared at it for a second and unlocked it again. Quickly I typed put a message to Harry.

  
  ** _You're not being fair. You need to talk to me and tell me when I do something wrong so I can fix it._**

 

For the entire night I was at the studio, I didn't get a response to a single message I sent to Harry. Again and again I called him but he didn't answer. After the first few times, he started intentionally declining my calls and sending them straight to voicemail.

  
Having been down this road with Harry before, I'd already used up all of my sadness. I wasn't disappointed or depressed or pathetically lonely (okay, that was a lie, I felt all those things but they were _mostly_ veiled) I was just angry. Just the straight up seething emotion of being intentionally wronged and not being able to do anything about it.

  
Julian picked up on my feelings and handed me a notebook while he tried to perfect the drum loop on the song we were working on. I started to scribble furiously on the pages, because nothing made any sense. Harry just lied and went against everything he felt. And he had this way of making it all seem genuine, but I wasn't an idiot. I knew it couldn't be real. Not with all the things he made me feel and all the times he casually tossed me aside. I needed to get my self esteem back in check, because before Harry there would have never been a man in the world if let treat me like this. Pain or no pain from the past, it was really time that Harry started to act like an adult and own his flaws and feelings. I deserved better.

_But I know in my heart, that you're not a constant star_   
_And yeah, I let you use me from the day that we first met_   
_But I'm not done yet, falling for your fools gold._   
_And I knew that you turned it on for everyone you met_   
_But I don't regret falling for your fools gold._

Julian and I finished the song we were working on and turned my scribbles into a new song. I got home around 5 am, and, not that it was any real surprise, my flat was empty. Harry hadn’t snuck in to wait for me and apologize. Because, of fucking course, he wouldn't. He hadn't texted me either. Hadn't responded to my invitations or my frustrations—hadn’t even send me a fucking bread emoji.

  
It was all very exhausting. I conceited and flopped onto my gigantic, barren mattress, and even though I was more angry than I'd been in a long time, I pulled Harry's pillow against me and fell asleep breathing in his scent. Before I feel completely asleep, I sent him one last text.

**_You only have 7 more days to fix this before I leave._ **

 

I woke up around 11 to a knock on my front door. I groaned as I heard Niall call my name, but I rolled out of the bed anyway. I pulled on the first shirt I could find and a pair of sweatpants and pulled the door open for Niall (who I was still more than a bit pissed at).

  
“Harry wants his camera,” said Niall, his voice much warmer than it had been the last time we'd spoken.

  
“Are you fucking kidding me?”

  
“I wish I was, Louis, but he asked me to come pick up his camera, so I'm obviously going to do it, whether or not I agree with it,” he signed, “and I figured we could talk,”

  
I stepped aside to let him through the door, “well what's there to talk about, Niall? I mean aside from the friend code and all that,” I was snippy and I couldn't help it. I was basically an angsty teenager who was mad at the world.

  
“Save it, Louis, I know you're pissed. I was a dick, but I didn't mean to aim it at you, I was pissed at Harry,”

  
I just stared at him dead-pan, waiting for a better explanation.

  
“My best friend is so fucking gone for you, do you know that?”

  
I shook my head from side to side, “no, actually, I truly do not,”

  
“Well he is,” Niall tried to assure me, “but he's a fucking cunt, too, and I haven't been so mad at him ever.”

  
“Are you ever actually planning on telling me, or is this just another waste of my time, because I feel like I've had enough time wasted to last me the next decade,”

  
“You're pissed,”

  
“Of course I'm pissed, you two haven't said a fucking word to me!”

  
“Well I'm trying to fix that,” argued Niall, taking a seat on my couch. I sat on the chair across from him and stared at him until he started speaking again.

  
“Thing about Harry is, he always does things wrong. I’m sorry he does this and treats you like rubbish, because you're not rubbish, Louis. He should step up, but instead he just keeps making stupid mistakes. Friday was a classic example,” Niall was watching me, waiting for the anger to fall from my expression. It didn't, so he pressed on. “He was having a good time a first, kept saying how much he wanted you there and calling you and it was all fine. He drank too much and that used to always make him sad or mad at himself or whatever and I think the more he thought about missing you, the lonelier he felt or something,” he paused, “also, I really shouldn't be telling you this, I know that, but I like you Louis and I like you for him, so this whole thing pissed me off more because of that,”

  
I just stared at him, waiting for him to actually say something of value.

  
“I don't think you should give him anymore chances, Tommo. You've been so good to him and he's been shit the whole time. I thought he was finally fine and then we went to that fucking bar and he left with some guy and I wanted to kill him,”

  
My stomach fell through the floor boards. Until this moment, the only issue with Harry had been his constant push/pull, but this was something new. I hadn't considered the possibility that he might still want to sleep with other people. My first instinct was to cry because I loved him, and here it was again. He didn't love me. But I pushed passed it and just felt angry.

  
“And you just let him go?”

  
“I'm his mate, not his mum. Harry does what he wants, I don't control him. I just let him know he's fucked, and trust me I let him know,”

  
Those tears I was working so hard to push back were threatening me again because it seemed, contrary to what he was saying, that he didn't care about me at all. All he ever did was protect Harry.

  
“So that's it, then?” I started, “I don't go out for one night and he fucks some other guy and it's just over?”

  
“Well he didn't fuck him,” shrugged Niall, “he just hit on Harry a bit, asked Harry if he wanted to go back to his place and the cunt said yes and they left,”

  
“Fucks sake,”

  
“And then he came back like fifteen minutes later crying like a fucking baby. Told me he couldn't do it, that you were the only person he wanted to sleep with and then cried some more. So I told him to fucking tell you, you know? To just be honest and tell you that he loves you or whatever, but that just made him cry more and then he drank me under the table, puked all over the taxi and cried for the rest of the night,”

  
I held my jaw firmly in place, eyeing Niall slowly. “I'm not sure I understand how he got from point a to point z,”

  
“Not sure I understand either. I don't know why being in love with you made him think he can never speak to you again, but I can't pretend I understand how the boy works. What he did was shit though and he won't talk to you, and that's shit too. I truly and honestly think you should be done. You don't owe him anything,”

  
A million things ran through my mind, but all I could feel was pain. Everything hurt because I was disposable. Harry had done nothing but use me and dispose of me at his leisure and this entire time I'd been so willing to overlook that. I'd been so willing to take every small thing he'd given me and I'd pretended like it would be enough, but it could never be. Harry could never be enough for me because he'd never give me what I needed. I was a pathetic idiot chasing after someone that wasn't capable of loving anyone. I just looked like another stupid member of the Harry Styles fan club, blind to his flaws and willing to give up all my value for any inkling that he felt something for me. And the worst part is that I should have known better. Everyone, including Harry, had been honest with me from the start. This is what Harry did. He made people fall under his spell and the shut them out when he was satisfied. He'd never give me more than that.

  
There was pity in Niall's eyes and that made me feel even more pathetic. I didn't want his pity. I didn't want any of this.

  
“Louis, I'm sorry. I'm sorry it had to be me that told you, but Harry's shit. He doesn't want to be better and that has nothing to do with you. He's gonna be fine, he's always fine, so you have to think about yourself. Don't keep playing his game, you deserve someone who actually wants to make you happy. Harry doesn't have a clue what that means,”

  
I wanted to speak. But if I spoke I knew I'd break down because I felt so small, so insignificant. I was a pathetic love struck idiot who'd sacrificed everything I had to fall in love with a void. I had finally found the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, yet I had never considered that he might not ever feel the same. I'd been so wrapped up in my own emotions that I forgot who it was I'd fallen for.

  
I couldn't speak because I didn't know what to say. I didn't want Niall's pity. I didn't want him to see my break. I felt so completely stupid.

  
“I'm sorry,” he said again, urging me to speak.

  
I didn't have any words left. Not for Niall, not for anyone but Harry, really. I didn't want Niall to see me so weak. I didn't want any of it, not anymore. I hadn't done a single thing wrong, and yet I was the one stuck breaking down. Harry was the closed emotional void he'd always been and none of this would matter to him. My insides were burning. I felt ill.

  
I stood up from the couch and walked toward the bathroom, “you can grab his camera and let yourself out. I've got work,” I mumbled, shutting the bathroom door behind me.

  
_Seven days_. Seven more days until I got to run away from all of this. Seven more days until I got to put the distance between Harry and I that I needed. The hot sun, the gorgeous guys, the endless parties—it was all very appealing to me in that moment because I really just needed to forget. I couldn't go on being pathetic. It was exhausting. I needed to throw myself into my work and resume the successful life I'd had before all of this.

  
But that was probably a pipe dream. Probably nothing could be the way it was before. I hated it. I hated it all, and I had half a mind to call Lottie and yell at her because her stupid dating profile was what had started this whole mess. I wanted somewhere to blame this. Somewhere to throw my anger and hurt.

...

 

For the next couple of days, I all but lived at the studio. We finished the album and wrote a few songs. Julian didn't ask me questions about what had happened, he just worked around it and filled in the blanks based on the lyrics I kept handing him.

_We made a fire_   
_Went down in the flames_   
_We sailed an ocean_   
_And drowned in a wave_   
_Built a cathedral_   
_But we never prayed_   
_We had it all, yeah_   
_And we walked away_

_Point of no return_   
_And now it's just too late to turn around_   
_I try to forgive you,_   
_But I struggle 'cause I don't know how_   
_We built it up so high and now I'm fallin'_   
_It's a long way down_

I hated it. I hated it all. I hated that I was writing our break up songs. I hated that I was still texting him. I hated that Niall was still texting me and telling me to stop. It was all just so unjustified. I didn't deserve any of this, and I just kept pathetically grasping to anything I could to make it hurt less. But there was no real way. It hurt no matter what.  
Harry's silence rang in my ears for days. It left me feeling insignificant and worthless and those were two things I hadn't felt in years. Two things I'd sworn to myself I was passed. I liked who I was. I was successful and happy and no man should have been able to make me feel anything less—but then again, Harry was the exception to everything, wasn't he? He changed all the rules, so it shouldn't surprise me that he'd do it once again.

...

It was now four days before I was leaving for LA. My plane ticket was sitting on my counter and I kept turning it over in my hand like it was some kind of redemption. I couldn't wait to be a million miles away from the wretched place I was.

  
I had been driving home from the studio when I had made the decision to get rid of all of Harry's stuff. It was crowding me and taking up all the room in my dresser and my head. I couldn't look at his perfectly folded tshirts sitting next to my balled up ones for another second. It was suffocating and I wanted my flat back. I wanted my mess and my clutter and my bin to be overflowing with takeaways like it had always been. I didn't want Harry's endless ingredients crowding my fridge, or my sink to be completely empty and all the dishes perfectly arranged in my cupboards. I wanted my chaos back. I wanted _Louis_ back.

  
I started shoving Harry's clothes into his bag. I made sure to wrinkle every single thing I placed in the bag, because harry wasn't fucking perfect and it was time he stopped acting like he was.

  
I marched through the doors of Harry's building and boarded the elevator. My whole body was shaking. I didn't want to see him—but I wanted to see him badly. I wanted to not want him, but it was a battle I'd been losing for a long time. Rage had carried me across town, but now I was blinded by fear. I didn't know if I could be ready to see the impassive expression he'd no doubt have. I didn't know if I was really ready to let him go for real, but I couldn't go on being this pathetic mess. I owed it to myself to confront him. To get rid of his stuff so he could stop crowding me.

  
I knocked on the door of his flat, waiting to see him open the door, but of course it was one of his flatmates who answered. I was in no way ready emotionally for this confrontation, so I faked it. I let my rage be the thing that carried me through his flat to his bedroom door.

I contemplated knocking, but Harry had taken all of my dignity and so I reasoned that he no longer needed his own. I barged in and found him folding his clothes on his bed with military precision. I don't know why, but this pissed me off more. He'd been doing laundry. No doubt very often because he refused to be an adult and come and get his things. He looked at me, openly gawking at my forwardness. I threw the duffle bag onto his perfectly neat pile of clothes and his brows furrowed as I ruined it. A small smile settled on my lips for the work I'd done.

  
“I came to give you your shit since I'm _clearly_ the only adult involved here,” I hoped my words sounded as sour as they tasted in my mouth, “and also to say ‘fuck you’,”

  
Harry just mechanically nodded his head at me. No big deal. They were just words. Just words from a person who meant nothing to him.

  
“So fuck you, Harry. Fuck you and your lies and your fucking perfectly folded clothes. Fuck your stupid green smoothies and _fuck_ your promises. Fuck you for lying to my family and yours and fuck you for lying to me,” I felt breathless, “and fuck you for giving me everything I wanted and taking it all away—just _fuck you_. Fuck all of you and everything you'll ever become. You're shit, Harry, you're a shit person,”

  
He watched me as I said every word. He blinked once as I breathed heavily, having dumped my emotions all over the floor in front of him. He blinked a second time, no emotion in his eyes. Then he just turned away from me, picking up the bag I'd tossed onto his bed. Without any acknowledgement that I was even in the room, he started to refold the clothes I'd crumpled.

  
And that was it, that was the last straw. That was the thing that made me boil over.

  
“What the fuck is wrong with you!” I was yelling, I'd never shown him this side of me. He'd never met my rage because I'd done nothing but treat him with care, “why can't you just give a fuck about someone other than yourself? Why are you like this, Harry? Why the fuck don't you think I deserve a fucking explanation? I gave you everything,”

  
“And I didn't ask for any of it, did I?” He snapped back then, his green eyes narrowing and looking positively frigid.

  
“You should have fucked him, Harry, you should have fucked the guy you left with, because this?” I gestured from myself to him, “this is fucking done. You blew it.”

  
He picked up another shirt and started folding it. I felt literally like I was going to explode. I grabbed the shirt from his hands and flung it across the room. Again, he just gave me the same stoic expression. I knocked the whole lot of his clothes to the floor.

  
“I was there for you, you know? I was there when you needed me and when I needed you all you've ever done is this! You just stare at me like I'm a fucking stranger. You knew how I felt about you and you still didn't have the spine to say something to me. I'm not irrational Harry, I'm not a fucking idiot so stop acting like a child. Tell me to my face what I did—tell me why you never loved me like I love you,”

  
“No,”

  
I wanted to punch something, namely the thing that was causing me all of my stress and hurt. I balled up both of my fists and held them tightly at my sides. 50% of me wanted to leave, and the other 50% of me was liberated. I wanted to say all the things I'd held back from him. I wanted to make him feel the same size I felt. I wanted to make him hurt, to crack through to the parts of him that were still capable of feeling.

  
“I hate you, Harry. I hate everything you are. I hate all the shitty parts of you, but most of all I hate the great parts because you ruined me. You ruined me for everyone else. How am I ever supposed to fall in love again? How _dare_ you take that away from me? Just because you've sentenced yourself to misery doesn't mean you have the right to put that on me. All I did was try to build you up. I tried to show you you're strong and all you did was take those parts of me. That isn't fucking fair. You don't have a clue how to love and I don't know how on earth it took me this long to see that. All you want to do it take until you get bored or scared or whatever it is you do, and I fucking hate it. I fucking hate you, Harry,”

  
_Oh, fuck,_ my dramatic display had been so exhausting that I hadn't even noticed that I was crying. I always cried when I got this angry. It was embarrassing, especially given that Harry didn't have a clue how to feel emotions, so he didn't deserve to see me so in touch with mine.

  
“Why did you come here, Louis?”

  
“Because I'm leaving and I don't know for how long and I don't want to come back and see any of you. I'm done, Harry. This isn't like the last 80 times. I don't want you, Harry. I don't want to deal with your shit anymore. These are not my problems. I know what the fuck I'm doing. You're the one who's lost and I'm done trying to find you. Fucking _rot_ in your misery and see if I care,” I meant the words as they came out, but I also knew the second the distance crept back in, I'd miss him again, but I owed this to myself. I had to embrace the distance and heal.

  
Harry looked perfectly composed as I shot at him, as I told him all the things I'd been holding back. It was all about him, all for him, but none of it affected him. None of it changed the stony expression of complete disinterest on his face.

  
“I honestly can't believe you're going to stand there and say nothing to me,” I wiped the stupid useless tears from my cheeks, “you make me feel like nothing Harry, have you got any idea what you've done to me? Do you ever give a fuck about anything? Even Niall is sick of your shit but you just keep taking, like you're a fucking entitled leech. What is wrong with you Harry, you can only hide behind your grief for so long, you know? It sucks that he died, but it doesn't excuse you for being a shit person. Grow the fuck up Harry, be an adult and face the people you've hurt,”

  
“Are you done now?” He asked flippantly, bending to rescue one of his shirts from the floor. He started fucking folding it again. No matter what I said, none of it affected him.

  
“After everything I did for you, Harry, how can you just stand there and act like you can't hear what I'm saying to you? Why do you insist on making me feel like nothing? Isn't there any part of you that gives a single solitary fuck about what you did to me?”

  
He narrowed his eyes at me, like he was bored with my emotions. Like they were a nuisance to deal with. He shrugged, “I suppose,” he said dismissively.

  
I was crying again, as usual. “We could have had it all, you know? I would have given you everything you wanted because all I ever wanted was you,” he looked in my direction, but he was staring right through me, “you realize I'm leaving, right? I'm gonna get on a plane to LA in a few days and I don't know when I'll be back. You can't fix this, Harry, you fucked it up. I'm done, and I know you think you don't care right now, but you're gonna miss me. You're gonna miss me when Gemma calls and asks about me. You're gonna miss me when you're home with all those people who loved me. You're gonna miss me when Niall and Zayn keep telling you you made a mistake and you're gonna miss me when you want someone who understands you. When you want to be the person you were for my eyes only. And I hope it fucking hurts. I hope it burns and makes you feel like you're gonna die because that's how you've made me feel more times than I can count and you deserve it Harry, you deserve to feel like the shit person that you are,”

  
Never in a million years had I ever imagined that I would say these things to Harry. Never in a million years did I think I'd mean them.

  
“You can go now,” was all he said.

  
And that was that. I was done. We were done. I'd let out the anger. All I had to do now was ride out the waves of other emotions that were biting at my heart and then maybe I could recover.

  
Maybe then, something other than falling in love with the boy with the empty eyes that I'd tried desperately to fill, could define me. Maybe I could get on with my life and make it out alive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is gonna hate on Harry, but don't worry. He narrates next, so we shall see what he's feeling! Only 2 more chapters left...


	26. Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The music for this chapter was particularly important to me. The playlist in order is:
> 
> Creep-Radiohead  
> Hurt- Nine Inch Nails  
> Deep, Slow Panic- AFI  
> The Face Beneath the waves- AFI  
> Monster- Eminem and Rhianna  
> Even my Dad does Sometimes-Ed Sheeran  
> Lego House- Ed Sheeran
> 
> at the end, I'll give a little explanation of why these are Harry's songs :)

**_Harry_ **

 

I watched as Louis walked out of my room. His shoulders were tight and held his hands in fists at his sides. I had never seen a display like the one he'd just shown me and it took about half a second after hearing the door to my flat slam for me to hit the floor. Waves of nausea and pain rippled through me like tsunamis. They broke the surface and tears poured from my eyes and sobs ripped through my chest. 

There it all was. All the things I probably deserved to hear. Louis hated me. Hated me on every possible level I could be hated on. I couldn't catch my breath. Panic gripped me as I tried over and over to make the air fill my lungs. I grabbed my phone with shaky hands and begged Niall to come to my flat. 

I sat on my floor for what felt like hours, waiting for Niall to come to my rescue. I was shaking, trying so hard to breathe, but nothing worked. Nothing made the oxygen go where it was supposed to and it just kept making me panic deeper and slower. 

Finally my bedroom door opened and Niall rushed in. He was next to me instantly, his hands making familiar, calm circles on my lower back. 

“Breathe in while I count,” he instructed. It was the millionth time Niall had come to me like this, and he never failed me. 

Finally, with his assistance, air seeped deeply into my lungs and my panic slowed. His hand kept on rubbing my back slowly and I leaned into him. He didn't say anything and we just sat on my floor for a long time, just leaning against each other. 

Finally, it was Niall who broke the silence. 

“Bad dream?” he asked. 

I shook my head, “he came here,” 

Niall was surprised enough to pull away and look at me, “he came here?” 

I didn't want to say anything else. I felt ashamed that I'd ever let things get to the point where he had to come here to yell at me. I didn't want it to matter. I didn't want him to matter because I was done hurting Louis. I didn't want any part of me to see any part of him because it was bad and it was messy and he deserved better. 

“What did he say Harry?” Niall urged me. 

I shook my head from side to side, pleading with him to stop. 

“Harry, come on, you've gotta talk to me about it. What did you say?” 

“Nothing. I said nothing, he just yelled at me and I let him and then he left. I really can't talk about it, Niall, not now.” 

“Harry,” 

"I know you told him about the bar," 

"'course I did, Harry, he deserved to know and you were never planning on talking to him again." 

I gripped Niall tightly, sobs coming from somewhere deep inside of me. He pulled me closer and I buried my face into his shoulder. Niall was the only safe place I had left, and I needed him now more than I'd probably ever needed him. Everything hurt. Everything was a mess and I just wanted to forget the day I ever met Louis because I couldn't go on like this. Not forever.  

Niall spent the night at my flat with me. We curled up in my tiny bed and watched Grey's Anatomy until we both drifted off. I didn't want to sleep, becase I knew better than to assume it was a sanctuary, and I was right.  

 

 _I was inside the club, Niall was standing next to me and the music pumped through my chest. I felt warm hands gripping my hips and moving my body along with the beat. I leaned back into the figure, assuming I knew who it was, but I was started with I heard Ronnie's voice in my ear._  

 _"Harry, you feel so good," he said, pressing his body against my back. It wasn't possible though. He couldn't be here._  

 _Then, I saw who Niall was dancing with and nearly jumped out of my skin. Tessa flashed me a dazzling smile and I felt the sound drain out of the picture. I was trapped there, in a vacuum, void of all sound and there was nothing but the pulsing heat and flashing lights of the nightclub and the beat kept pounding in my chest. I felt a panic in my stomach, but Ronnie danced against me like it was all normal. Like there was nothing wrong with the picture._  

 _Still, there was no sound and I looked_ _franticaly_ _around the bar for someone else who felt how wrong this all was, but I saw no one. In fact, I only saw people grinding away against each other and drinking drinks like there wasn't a care in the world._  

 _I turned around and Ronnie gave me a concerned look, brushing the hair from my eyes. He kept dancing though, his hands still on my waist, but there was no sound. No music. Just the feeling of the bass shaking my whole body._  

 _Over Ronnie's shoulder, I caught sight of him. Louis was standing at the bar and leaning closely to some other_ _guy i had_ _never seen. He spoke directly in his ear and I could tell they were flirting and everything was just wrong. Ronnie was here, Tessa was here and Louis was across the bar hitting on strangers. The uneasiness in my gut didn't lift._  

_I pulled Ronnie's hands off my hips and made off toward Louis, needing some kind of explanation._ _As soon as he spotted me walking toward him, a cruel smile came to his lips. Sound broke through the vacuum and the music and murmur of voices rushed into my ears again._

_"Well, well, well, if it isn't Harry Styles, the master of the one night stand, approaching little old me. What do you want, Harry? You've already had a go, thought you didn't like repeat performances," his words were venomous and they made me feel even more uneasy than I already was in this weird and twisted reality._  

 _"I—"_  

 _"Oh, he'd speechless, doesn't know what to say, cute, innit?" He asked the guy he was standing next to. "Why don't you do us both a favour and head back over there to your guy for the night? I don't really feel much like talking to you,"_  

 _"Louis, wait," I pleaded._  

 _"No, Harry, you listen to me you vile human being," he spat, "I don't want anything to do with you or your lies or your shitty one night stands. You're deplorable. I've never hated a person like I hate you Harry Styles. You're filth, trash and I don't ever want you to think for even a second that its okay for you to come up to me. Its not okay. I hate you and you disgust me. Rot in your misery, Harry,"_  

 _He grabbed the guy he was talking to by the arm and lead him into the crowd. My stomach was in knots. Suddenly Ronnie's voice was at my ear._  

 _"He couldn't save you, Harry, I knew he couldn't. Louis was always too good for you. You'd never be enough for him. He wants you to rot,"_  

 _I turned around and saw the corpse version of Ronnie that had haunted me since my first night with Louis. His rotten flesh burned the hairs of my nose and fear sunk into my gut._  

 _"You should have known better, Harry, Louis was always too good for you. Someone like you could never make him happy. All you did was wreck him. Now he wants you to rot like me,"_  

 

 

I sat up straight in my bed and found myself screaming. Niall sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes and then my back. 

"Bad dream?" 

Tears came down my cheek, "Louis hates me," was all I said.  

Niall and I laid back down and he wrapped his arms around me while I cried. I knew though, I knew that I was right and that Niall knew I was right because he didn't try to dissuade me from what I'd said. He knew Louis hated me. He knew it was hopeless, because he didn't even try to convince me otherwise. Niall had given up on me in a lot of ways that week. I felt empty because of all the people on earth to give up on me, I'd honestly thought that Niall (and Louis) would have been the last.  

Sure, Niall was still here. Would be here through the whole thing, but something had changed in us. He saw me now, for the first time in our 6 years of friendship, for who I really was. He saw the ugly horrible mess I was inside, and for once he wasn't ready to deal with it.  

I was alone. Alone in my misery. Alone to _rot_ as Louis had so eloquently put it.  

There was no changing it. There was no changing who I was, because I was tained and infected with poison straight through my core. I ruined everything good I touched.  

 

… 

It was the day Louis was leaving for LA, and also, the first day that I had left my flat since our conversation (which admittedly had been me avoiding my feelings and Louis screaming his at me—but I digress). I was in Zayn's flat. We were alone and he hadn't really said much. I got the feeling, like everyone else in my life, Zayn was getting pretty fed up with me.  

"Do you think," he started, taking a slow drag from his bong, "that if you weren't emo all the time and looking for someone to distract you, that you and I would even be friends?" 

Yeah. Everyone hated me. That was pretty obvious. It sucked but I probably deserved it.  

"Of course we would be, I like you, I like hanging out with you," I said flatly. 

"Yeah, and I like you too, but what does that say about me? Like, mate, you're a shit person. You hurt someone who loved you a whole lot, and you love him too. Why wouldn't you just own it, you know?" He exhaled slowly, "Don't know, makes me wonder about myself, wanting to be around you and whatever. You're kind of toxic," 

"You're kind of an ass," 

"Well, my name is not Niall Horan. I am not going to protect you and sugar coat things. If you want to hang out here, fine, but I'm gonna keep talking because no one else does and you deserve it," 

"You're kind of definitely an ass," 

"Yeah, but you know what? As much as an ass as I can be, you know what I did when the guy of my dreams told me he loved me?" He raised an eyebrow at me, "I fucking adjusted. I got comfortable. Changed everything, told everyone what was up and dealt with it, because guys like Liam and Louis? They don't come around twice. I'm not gonna get a million chances here, so I'm making sure I do the right thing." 

"Point taken," 

"Is it though? I mean, I've told you you're shit, but will you do something about it? Because I feel like you won't. I feel like you're just going to do exactly what you did last time," 

"He said he hated me," I let the words settle around us, "said I should rot in my misery. I think I already went way passed the point of no return," 

Zayn nodded slowly, "so it was bad," 

"It was really bad. He called me an entitled leech," 

Zayn sputtered a laugh at that, and he made me crack a smile through all the misery I was currently in. Bless him. "Never heard Louis say something like that, didn't think the bloke had it in him," 

"I tend to bring out the worst in people," I said humourlessly.  

"That you, do Styles," he leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes, "at the very least though, you must have learned something from this whole mess," 

I shook my head in the negative, "nope. Not a thing," 

"Well you _did_ learn who your 'the one' is, but you kind of blew it, yeah?" 

I was done speaking. There was nothing more really to say. Was Louis the one? I didn't know. I suspected I would never really know, because I knew myself well enough that I wouldn't analyze the situation properly. I'd let my pain take over and make all my decisions for me.  

It had only been just over a week and it was a disaster already. My dreams had taken over my sleep schedule. I wasn't able to dream of anything other than Louis screaming at me, or Louis dying and the rotten version of Ronnie endlessly repeating that he'd been right.  

Maybe there was no reality in which Louis and I could have really worked. Maybe I would never have been able to give him enough, but I loathed myself for letting it get to this point. If I would have just slept with Louis and called it a day, things probably would have been fine. I would have continued down my normal road and I would have continued to be my own version of happy. Before Louis, my dreams were minimal, I'd been off medication for years and I'd been fine. I'd been so good, and better than I thought I could have ever been. I'd been making the people in my life proud.  

Then Louis happened. He'd pushed and pushed and pushed me until I gave into the avalanche of feelings that he unleashed inside of me. I'd never been so close to a person in my life, and I'd broken every single rule I'd ever had to give him as much as I could, but I was damaged. I was scared. Then he fell in love with me, and I'd fallen for him and I hadn't even told him a thing and I'd managed to break him. And then he just kept giving and kept saving me and pulling me out of my darkness over and over and it was exhausting. It was completely too much to be so wrapped up in one person who I just kept hurting over and over.  

It was more than apparent to me that I wasn't the sort of person who was meant to be loved. I was bad at it. I caused him more pain that I'd ever taken away. All I'd ever wanted was to survive passed my greif and make a life I could be proud of.  

Louis had ruined it all, though. He'd thrown all my progress under the bus and made my question everything I had once taken to be fact.  

So was Louis the one? Was he the one over Ronnie? 

I didn't know. It sort of felt that way sometimes. I felt like I wanted to be more for him. Like I wanted to give him the things he gave me. But he also made me feel inadequate because I wasn't what he needed. Despite how much I'd tried to give him, I was still a shit person. 

But, god, did I love him. I'd gotten so used to all the things he gave me, and all the promises I'd made him that the emptiness echoed hard and loud inside of me. He'd given me life again when I was sure that I was a complete and utter pile of worthless, damaged goods. He'd taken every single part of me in and he hadn't questioned a single part of it. He'd just loved me the way he deserved to be loved.  

But my whole life was living in a shadow. Living up to the promises I'd made to another man. And I hated Louis for that. I hated that he'd pulled me out of that shadow and made me question everything. I hated that I was forced to really analyze Ronnie. That I had to see him for the person he had really been and not just the pleasant memory I'd made him into.  

Yeah, Louis had given me a lot of things, but he'd made me lose a lot too. I wasn't the same person I'd been before him, and I didn't know if there was any way to go back. I didn't know if the distance between us would erase him. I didn't know if I would be able to go back to loving Ronnie the way I had before. The whole thing had changed me and I didn't know if I would ever be able to love Ronnie the way I loved Louis.  

Just admitting it in my mind set loose a whole new wave of guilt. I didn't know how to deal with any of this. I didn't know how to be with him, but I certainly did not know how to be without him. It was a mess, I was a mess and I didn't have a real choice but to accept it all. Louis wasn't patiently waiting for me. He was gone. He was on another continent and he'd told me word for word everything he felt. He was done. It was plain and simple and regardless of what I felt, I needed to deal with that.  

…. 

It was the second day that Louis was in LA and Niall had finally successfully convinced me to go over. We were playing video games while Zayn and Liam watched. Liam hadn't said a word to me since our night out. I figured he'd be the one to take the whole mess the hardest. I wanted nothing more than to rewind back to the days where my friends still liked me and didn't see me as the devil incarnate. But, with Liam I knew there was little hope. He'd always held his grudges against me, and maybe I deserved it. I mean, I hadn't really done anything to prove him wrong yet.  

I was mopey. Visibly so. I hadn't really slept in a long time, and I'd been avoiding every single job I'd been offered because I was stuck on obsessively contemplating how I felt about Louis—regardless of the fact that I knew it was irrelevant. How I felt, how I analyzed it would have little affect on what would actually happen between us. Louis was done. I'd blown it, as he put it, and there was probably no point to keep dwelling on it.  

"How long is this going to go on?" I heard Zayn talking and it took me a moment to realize that he was speaking to me.  

"What?" I responded slowly.  

"I mean, how long are you going to sit around with the victim complex and pouty eyes acting like you've just seen the apocalypse?" Zayn was so brash. Too brash for the state I was in, really. "I mean, Harry, you did it. You left with the guy, the fuck did you think would happen? _You_ stopped talking to _him_. You have no one to blame but yourself," 

Niall shot Zayn a warning glance, but I chose to engage him, "I wasn't trying to blame anyone else," 

"Then why didn't you just fix it before it got here? I can't possibly sit around watching you pout about Louis for the next 10 years. The night I met you, you were with Louis. You were happy. That's the Harry I signed up for. Then you got pouty and scared and I sat by you for that, but I'm not Niall, you know? I didn't sign up for this sad pathetic thing you're doing. I saw you at your best, and you let your best walk away and I just don't think I'm ever going to be able to tell you how much of an idiot you truly are," 

"Zayn would you shut the fuck up?" Urged Niall loudly, his blue eyes icy with warning.  

"No. I won't because you're not gonna find someone else Harry. Someone who understands how shit you are and loves you anyway," I was nodding as he spoke and Niall openly gawked at our exchange, "Louis, though. He's a catch—not like you. He doesn't come with all that baggage and he's good on paper. Someone else is going to see that, you know? Like, he's kind of a big deal, he's gone to produce an album in _LA_. This isn't high school. You're not going to see him in the halls next week and have it all fall back into place. He could have whoever he wants. He's successful, fun, charming and funny and all that and someone else is going to be able to actually see that and step up," 

"I know," I said, and all three sets of eyes were on me, "and maybe I want that," 

"What does that even mean?" Asked Niall 

"I—I only ever wanted him to be happy," 

"Then step the fuck up, Harry," this time it was Liam. Liam aiming the words at me and making them slice into my skin. They were the first words he'd said to me in two weeks. And they were odd, because despite everything and all the distaste I knew he had for me, they were kind of words of encouragement, weren't they? They were kind of basically telling me that I needed to try again, and that didn't make sense, because Liam, of all of them, should have been the one who knew where Louis stood.  

I just openly stared at Liam, searching for something to say but there was really nothing. I had nothing to say because all of my friends were right. They all knew I'd fucked up. They knew what I should have done, how I should have fixed things, but it was all moot. All these facts mattered very little because I'd already missed the chance. And honestly, I didn't even know if I would have taken the chance in the first place. I didn't know if it was what I wanted.  

Anyone with any sort of reason could clearly see that Louis was the obvious choice. He was kind, patient and willing to work with all of my flaws. Objectively, there was no contest, but in _my_ messy, fucked up head? Nothing was black and white. Nothing made such simple sense. Everything was marked with guilt and the need to fulfil obligations that, admittedly, I didn't even know if I wanted to uphold.  

Upon looking at all of the things that made Louis who he was, I was forced to look harder at Ronnie, at everything he had been. Before, there was never a question of who ‘the one’ was. It had been Ronnie. It had been him because there wasn't a single other option out there that made sense. And now there was an option. An option that made so much more sense and filled me with so much. Filled me in all the spaces I'd grown so used to having empty.  

When Ronnie had left, he had hollowed out the spirits of all the people he left behind. In his brightest moments, which were the ones I'd always remembered most before Louis, he'd burned bright like a star. He was incredible, charismatic and he'd made me so, so happy. But in his darkness he left me shallow, broken and always on alert. The highs were high, but the lows were often times worse than actually being without him. He'd been my partner—my burden and my cross to bare on those bad days. He had brought me down lower, and since his death, I had never experienced a low quite as deep, and that had to say something. It was always so much work to be with him. So much hit and miss and so many moments begging for the bright and shiny star from the good moments. It was a bit like being in love with two different people and I had never known which one I was going to face.  

But Louis? Louis was the _sun_. He burned brighter than any other star in the galaxy. In the moments that he wasn't there, he left his glow behind him. There was always a moon, always a promise that he'd be back, and that? That was _something_. Louis was something and I was never quite sure what to do with it, how to accept such a glowing, perfect gift. Because the sun gave life to the entire earth and Louis gave life to me. Gave me what I needed to be full and real and alive again. That was more than I had a right to ask for, and more than I could ever repay.  

I could never, ever give Louis the things he gave me. That was a lot to have weigh on me. I had no way to give back to him what he'd given to me. All I did was take and take until I'd exhausted him. A leech. It was a fair comparison and I more than deserved such.  

It was then that I noticed that every single one of my friends was staring at me. They all expected for me to have something to say to Liam, who had thrown me completely off guard.  

So I lied. I didn't care of Niall or Zayn saw right through it. Lies were safer. Especially when it came to matters of the heart.  

“I wasn't looking for anything,” I said, and although that part was truthful, we all knew that the rest was a lie. “I'm better on my own,” 

Zayn laughed. Actually laughed out loud like I was telling him a joke. “Bullshit, Harry, I call bullshit. You're not better on your own, and I think, of the four of us, I'm the only one qualified to make that statement,” 

“Zayn,” warned Liam.  

Zayn shot him a poisonous glance and turned back to me, “he makes you better. I don't give a fuck what you want to hear. Liam makes me better too. I didn't need to have him to be okay, but it's still _better_. I'd rather have him here to bitch at me when he thinks I'm being too abrasive than be on my own. I could be ‘fine’ for a thousand years on my own, you could, too, but don't you dare sit there and tell me you're _better_. It's not better. _Better_ is being with the person who makes you that way,” 

“Zayyyyn,” sighed Liam, pulling Zayn against him and kissing his cheeks, his chin, his neck, his ears. Zayn laughed against him. 

He placed his hand on Liam's cheek and kissed him softly. While their noses were still pressed together he spoke to him, just him, like the rest of us never existed. “I'll never be afraid, Liam. I'll never not tell you and everyone else in the world how lucky I am. You are the best thing,” 

“Ah, gross, get a room ya cunts,” joked Niall, but they just stared at each other like they were alone. No one else mattered because they had each other. 

It was exhausting to see, but probably exactly what I needed.  

 

.... 

 _I was sitting next to Niall at the booth we were_ _sharing with Zayn and Liam._ _I was drunk. Absolutely blasted and the only thing I could really think about was how badly I just wanted to kiss. I'd called Louis 100 times but he was busy and he wasn't answering me. I pulled out my phone and sent him_ _a full row of_ _kissy_ _face emojis._ ** _I just wanna kiss you all over your perfect, beautiful face._** _I sent right after. I was drunk, lonely and pretty damned horny because all of those things_ _normally blurred together for me._  

 _“Harry, you haven't put your phone down all night and I wanna dance!” Drunk Zayn was silly and friendly_ _and all around a complete joy._  

_“Then dance, we shall, Zayn Malik, I shall give you all that you desire!”_

_I was aware of how drunk I sounded, but also aware that this was something only Zayn and I had. Niall rarely danced_ _and Liam most certainly did not (and for the best because he'd crushed my toes more than once while dancing with me at parties in his flat). When Niall did decide to dance it was when he was more wasted than me_ _and it was dirty. He only knew how to grind and say dirty things to everyone around us. It was a bit of a show, but Zayn just wanted to dance like me. He wanted to have fun, make a proper fool of himself and it was just what I needed to get my mind off of missing Louis._  

 _On the dance floor Zayn held my hand and spun me around like a ballerina. I was laughing and he was fist pumping and thrusting his hips to the beat._ _I sucked the straw of the drink in my hand and bounced happily next to him. I don't know how many songs_ _we had been dancing to, but there was a sheen of sweat on my skin and drinks (mostly my own) had been spilled all over me and I smelled like a liquor cabinet._   _Eventually_ _our display had gotten the attention of a few other guys, who were now standing next to us, one of which was pressing himself against my back._ _I still danced along, happily screaming back lyrics to Zayn while he acted them out foolishly._  

 _“So baby pull me closer in the back seat of your rover!” We_ _screamed to each other and Zayn grabbed my hand, forcing me close to him. His lips were at my ear in a second. Zayn had to be more sober than I was, because_ _he was making much more informed choices._  

 _“That guy’s trying to pull you,” he said into my ear, “I can get rid of him if you want,” he offered._  

 _“’S fine, Zayn, I just want to keep dancing. It's just a dance,”_  

 _I stepped back from him and felt the mans hands on my hips again, his body pressing back up against mine_ _._ _Zayn was drunk, drunk enough that he kept motioning for Liam to join us_ _, even though I knew perfectly well that even the most drunk version of Liam would never step onto the dance floor. He just kept shooting_ _Zayn thumbs up and telling him he looked good._  

 _When one of the guys tried to_ _dance_ _against Zayn,_ _he shook his finger back and forth like they were a naughty child. He gestured to his head and down to his toes, “sorry mate, all this belongs to all that,” he said_ _pointing to Liam who just waved. They weren't like all the other couples I saw out at clubs. They didn't bother with jealousy, they just_ _trusted each other to make the right choices. Silently I wondered if Louis thought I made the right choices._  

 _The guy behind me spun me around then, his hands still on my hips_ _. He was tall, so much so that I had to look up to him. He looked down at me and bit his lip, like he was sizing up his prey._  

 _“I have a boyfriend,” I words fell from my lips before I'd even thought them. I wasn't the same person I'd been the million of other times I'd been at that club._ _It was strange. But he didn't release his grip on me, instead, he pressed our hips together suggestively and_ _grinded_ _against me to the beat._  

 _Zayn’s hand was on my shoulder immediately, pulling me back toward him, “_ _come on, Harry, I need a new drink and Liam and Niall look lonely back there,” he said, tugging me off the dance floor._  

 _He'd rescued me, assuming I wasn't going to take care of it myself. It was fine. Zayn was in a better state than I was_ _and he was just looking out for me. I didn't need to feel crowded or invaded or anything. He was just being a friend. Same as I would have done for him._  

 _We sat back down at the booth with Niall and_ _Liam. Liam pulled Zayn next to him immediately and kissed him slowly, “you looked good out there, babe,” he purred._  

 _Zayn--_ _drunk Zayn (maybe my favourite Zayn_ _) used one hand to plug his nose and wiggled his other hand in the air and then switched, making Liam laugh fondly, “yeah, you like my dance moves?_ _Think I'm sexy and all that,”_  

 _“Yes and yes, the sexiest,” he said, kissing him._  

 _“It's like hanging out with teenagers with them, innit, Harry?” Asked Niall._  

 _“_ _Mmm,” was the only thing I said because I was currently very focused on how dizzy I was. I was staring at my phone, trying to remember how it unlocked. I wanted to call Louis. I missed his voice._  

 _“Back at it again, yeah? Pouting about missing Louis,” said Niall, elbowing me, “that's all he's done all night!”_  

 _“Because he loves him, don't you Harry?” Said drunk Zayn, smiling and not even thinking about the words he was saying, “nothing wrong with that,” he mused, pawing at Liam's hair and the one strand that was refusing to be a part of his quiff_ _, “even told the lad hitting on him he had a boyfriend,”_  

 _Niall elbowed me again then, grin set in place._ _“Ah, finally the truth comes out,”_  

 _I felt attacked. I hadn't been prepared for this conversation. Goosebumps ran down my spine._ _I felt stupid and naked and Zayn had exposed parts of me that I wasn't willing to share with them—not yet. I hadn't even shared them with_ Louis.  

 _Niall wrapped his arm around me, “you're gonna tell him, yeah? That you love him and all?”_  

 _Everything around me suddenly felt tight. My clothes were suffocating me. The music was too loud and I couldn't hear myself_ think _._ _I was going to panic. I needed them to stop. I needed to get some air._  

 _“_ _Stop,”_ _I said, but my voice was soft._  

 _“Oh, come on, Harry, we’re your mates.” Said Liam._  

 _“_ _Stop,” I tried again._  

 _“Oh for Christ sake, Harry,” Niall was drunk, too and that made a really big problem for us and our dynamic, because he was going to push_ _. I could feel it coming and I knew I was going to crack, “you love him, Harry, plain and_ _easy. Good choice too,”_  

 _“Niall,” I warned, the word just slipping through my clenched teeth._  

 _“Well you're not denying it, and he loves you_ _, too,_ _so I don't see what the big fucking deal is,”_  

 _“The big fucking_ _deal,_ Niall, _is_ _that it's none of your god damn business. An_ _d, if,_ _by some stretch, it_ was _your business, I'd just tell you that you're wrong. I don't love_ _him and I said I had a boyfriend because I_ _wanted that guy to get the fuck off of me,” my words were a rage, “I was_ not _talking about Louis_ _fucking Tomlinson, you nosey piece of shit,”_  

 _Yeah, I'd gone too far. Niall narrowed his eyes at me, wanting to push me further. I could feel it coming._ _Zayn and Liam had slipped away at the first sign that_ _mine and Niall's_ _conversation was going south._  

 _But, by the grace of whatever higher power existed,_ _someone appeared next to me. “_ _Well, hello again, curls,” his accent was so crisp, so clean_ _and perfect._  

 _I looked up and saw the guy who'd been dancing with me. He was more gorgeous now that he was placed directly in front of me_ _. His skin was_ _a_ _dark caramel_ _brown, and his hair was kept in a neat fade, with a lengthy quiff at the top that looked perfectly dishevelled. His eyes were a dark, deep brown and_ _he had a perfectly clipped beard. He was dressed in designer jeans and dress shoes. He wore a t-shirt with the Abercrombie and Fitch logo on it and a watch that could have paid my rent for_ _months. His chest was broad and I didn't have to_ _do much to imagine the muscles that he definitely had underneath._  

 _Basically, he was exactly the sort of guy I'd gone for time and time again. Rich, well studied, well spoken and tall, dark_ and _handsome._  

 _To his credit, he had chosen the exact right moment to walk up to me. Zayn and Liam had left, so there was no one to play the voice of reason. Niall let me do what I wanted._ _That, coupled with the fact that Niall and I were currently fighting and I had the desire to prove everyone wrong, was really all I need_ _ed_ _for my drunk mind to make the infinitely wise decision to be_ bad _._  

 _“Hi,” I said, flashing him my best, most dimply smile._  

 _“So, I've got some grey goose on ice back at my place, and I'd really like to see those dance moves in a quieter setting,” he started, “so how about_ _I call us a taxi, and we head back to my place,”_  

 _I heard Niall open his mouth and clamped my hand over it before he could speak. “Yes,” was all I said._  

 

 _We_ _were in the back of the taxi at an alarmingly fast rate._ _He handed the driver a_ _large bill and mumbled out an address, turning his attention back to me. He looked me up and down and I felt a blush creeping up my face, despite_ _how drunk I was. My head was spinning, but he just kept eying me up like_ _I was some kind of prize he'd earned. Ordinarily, that was exactly the way I wanted to be treated. I wanted to feel like the centre of attention, like the object that men couldn't keep their gazes (or hands) off of_ _, but tonight it felt cheap. It felt like he had no real personality and he was just_ _us_ _ing his good looks and money to_ _lure in a pretty thing that he had no real interest in. Things felt weird. There was an almost panic in my stomach as the cab started to move._  

 _I gri_ _pp_ _ed the back of the_ _passenger’s seat, trying to ground myself. Trying to keep the panic at bay. I wasn't going to break. Not he_ _re_ _._ _Not like this. This was who I was. I was the kind of_ _guy to turned to putty for sexy, rich men. And I was the kind of guy who had left with dozens of men from dozens of bars and I hadn't had a single qualm about it until this moment. I wasn't going to let Niall's words matter to me. I wasn't going to be changed for some_ guy.  

 _I was fine, I would be okay._  

 _A_ _nd_ _then his hand came to my cheek and he turned my face to his. All I could smell was his expensive cologne and all I could think as I stared at his perfect, large and pink lips_ _was how Louis never smelled like something so_ obvious _. He just smelled like Louis. Like a mixture of his sweat and deodorant and chocolate (because his diet was entirely garbage) and he smelled a bit like the soap I put in his_ _shower which he insisted on using because it smelled like a permanent reminder of me. This guy’s breath—oh god, I didn't even know his_ name _—smelled like_ _the gum he was chewing and expensive vodka. It wasn't off-putting but it wasn't inviting. It was a bit bland and sterile_ _and Louis never smelled bland or sterile._  

 _I needed to stop making these comparisons because things were going to get bad really fast. I felt the panic in my gut as the taxi turned the corner and we were no longer in sight of the club._  

 _He leaned in then, and kissed me, tongue first like he had no idea what he was doing. This kiss was all about wanting to fuck me and very little about neatness. My lips were full of saliva and_ _I didn't respond. He just held my face and fucked it with his tongue while I sat there, thinking about_ _Louis_ _fuckin_ _g_ _Tomlinson instead of the task at hand._ _He sucked on my lips, hard, like he wanted to leave a bruise and not romantic at all. The guy didn't have a clue how to kiss me properly._ _It was a mess. His tongue was everywhere but in my mouth._  

 _And that's when it set in. The panic that had been_ _stirring inside of me struck me and hit me full-force, knocking me back. I put my hands on his chest and pulled away from him._  

 _“Stop the car,” it sounded hysterical._  

 _“Shh, baby, I'm not gonna hurt you. Let me ravish you,” his words were awful and cheap._  

 _“I can't do this, let me out,” I said and the driver pulled the car_ _over, unlocking the door so I could jump out into the cold London air._  

 _It took me seven minutes to get back to the bar. Seven agonizing minutes of not being able to breathe_ _as tears fell from my eyes at an alarming rate. I was fucked. Completely and totally fucked and it was all Louis’ fault._  

 _When I got back to the bar, there were two people standing outside. They turned to me. Ronnie's face was rotten and sinister looking._ _His empty eye sockets fixed on me, but he didn't say a word._  

 _The second figure was Louis and he was in my face immediately._  

 _“You should have fucked him, Harry, because we are done. I'm fucking over you Harry._ _Fucking_ rot,” 

 _Ronnie just smiled, “I knew you'd break him, it's what you do, Harry,”_  

 

… 

I sat straight up. A dream. Another dream. Maybe the millionth I'd had about that night at the club. I didn't know what I was going to do with myself. It was haunting me. I didn't know if it was haunting me more for the fact that it was completely and totally immoral of me to have ever considered being so cruel to Louis, or if it was bothering me that he'd changed me so much.  

Zayn was standing in the corner of his flat painting by the glow of about 10 candles (mood lighting, he called it). It was four in the morning and I was asleep on his couch for the millionth time. He saw me sitting up and put down his brush. He had a streak of purple across his forehead and as he moved to flick his fringe out of his eyes, he added a new streak of orange.  

"Bad dream?" 

"Always," I responded. Zayn and I were close. Really close, and in really short time. Something about him always compelled me to be my most honest. 

He sat next to me, "Can I ask you something?" 

I nodded slowly, bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I needed to feel tight and safe.  

"What do you dream about?" 

His brown eyes held nothing but innocent curiosity. Zayn knew a lot about me, but he didn't know everything. He didn't know about Ronnie. Didn't really understand why I was the way I was. He had just acepted my flaws and damaged heart and chose to understand it as best as he could.  

"Usually about someone I used to know. He died," I said honestly, "now I mostly dream about Louis," 

He turned the information over in his head. He didn't speak for awhile and I considered giving him more, but finally he broke his silence. "I would be willing to bet you anything that he's dreaming about you, too," 

He stood up then and walked back to his half-finished canvas. He picked up his brush and started painting again. Zayn always left the conversation before it was ever finished. It was his signature move. As we'd begun to have more and more conversations, I started to realize that he did it on purpose. He always left me with the points he wanted me to ponder.  

In this case, though, I had to wonder if he was even close to being right. Louis was probably trying to do everything that he could to forget every part of me. I was wiling to bet that he was involoving a very limited amount of his energy to anything conerning me.  

And that was fine. That was what I'd wanted, wasn't it? 

I thought back to our conversation, back when I'd been trying to push him away. He asked me what I thought he wanted. He'd told me that he'd wanted someone to run with. I hadn't given him that. All I'd done from that very first kiss was run blindly in 10 different directions. There was no way for me to just be in sync with someone. It wasn't something I could do. I was composed of whims and confusion and guilt—the guilt! It was consuming. Every single time something felt good I was crushed with it. Crushed with the promises that I'd made. Crushed with the memory of the person who had hurt me most in the world. I didn't know what to do about him anymore. 

He'd taken everything from me. Ronnie had done nothing but dissemble every single part of my life, and years later he was still haunting me. I'd been a kid—a kid who had loved him. I'd given everything I had to him and he'd made me a million promises that he'd broken in 10 seconds. He'd taken himself from me, our hopes and our dreams. He'd taken Tessa, my very best friend in the world. He'd taken my self-esteem, my drive, my ambition, my ability to love the people who needed me. He'd taken so much, but never in a million years would I have ever painted him as the villian in my life story. He was always 'the one that got away' the thing I pined after for years, but was that all wrong? It was seven years after he'd left me and he was _still_ taking things from me. He'd taken Louis and Louis was the sun and I was cold now. So, so cold and I was faced with the reality that maybe I'd let my past make a complete disaster of my future.  

 

…

 

It was officially a week and a half since Louis had left, and I'd made a very important decision. I was going to let myself hurt. I was going to allow myself to have one night to wallow in complete self loathing and misery, and then, I would rebuild. I would fix all the things that Ronnie and Louis had ruined in my life and I'd start over. I was good at starting over. I was going to be okay.  

So I begged, and I mean _begged_ Niall, Zayn and Liam to go out with me. They were are pretty reluctant because of my previous display, and that was fair. But eventually, I was able to convince them that going to a club was the very best way to spend a Friday night. Niall agreed on one term: "You can't get drunk until I'm already too pissed to remember—I'm not letting you ruin my night again". I agreed.  

Liam and Zayn were already nowhere to be seen, and I was just starting to feel my liquor. Niall, however was more than three sheets to the wind as he danced with a group of girls who looked like they'd just bought their IDs earlier that morning. One of the girls was dancing with me, holding my hands and swinging them wildly back and forth as the song playing came to an end. A new song started, and with the club beat over it, it was hard to recognize the song, but as soon as the words started, remix or not, I knew the song.  

"Oh em gee, Harry, I love this song!" The girl shrieked and grabbed onto me, dancing like her life depended on it. "Waking up beside you I'm a loaded gun!" She was screaming and I just stood there and watched her.  

Was there really no safe place? Was Louis going to haunt me no matter what I did? 

"What's wrong, Harry!" She asked, urging me to sing along, her hips swaying to the beat. Niall was across the dance floor, sandwiched between two blondes and singing along to all the words. I wished badly that I was on his level.  

"I know the guy who wrote this song," I don't know why I was speaking.  

"No way!" She said excitedly, sizing my expression, "and you hate him?" 

Furiously I shook my head from side to side. "No, no, god no," I didn't know why I was trying to engage this drunken child in conversation, but it felt good. It felt right somehow to let it all out with someone who didn't have a stake in the whole thing. Someone who wouldn't just tell me about how fucked up I am. "He's the best. The best ever. He's funny and horrible at cooking—he doesn't even know how to whisk! But he makes the best smoothies and he's the best at cuddling. The best at everything really. He's in LA now and I miss him," I needed to be more drunk. I needed to be too drunk to speak because the things I was saying were embarrassing and I'd actually die if someone else heard me.  

"Oh my god, Harry, you totally love him!" She was just a silly teenaged girl I'd only met 20 minutes ago, so nothing she said should have mattered to me.  

I wasn't going to do this, not again tonight. I wasn't going to be that person who brought everyone else down with me. I wasn't going to bring _myself_ down. I was not going to be the 'after Louis' version of myself. Not tonight. Tonight I was going to be the person I was _before_ him. I was going to be happy and carefree. I wasn't going to dwell on the things I couldn't have. I wasn’t going to be brought down by a four letter word that everyone in my life kept on throwing at me. I wasn't going to let being in love with Louis bring me down again tonight. It was irrelevant and I wasn't going to bring it into this club.  

I had a sudden urge to lose control. I was so sick of everything being exactly as I made it. I was sick of being responsible for how my life had turned out. I wanted to lose it. I wanted to cut out every bit of control I had. I didn't want to be that person. Not anymore. I wanted to burn every part of me that had any sense of control.  

I left the dancefloor then, taking Claire (I finally remembered her name at some point) with me to the bar. We did annihilated a row of tequila shots. My stomach burned with the alcohol and it was glorious. My head spun and my eyes wandered around the bar, searching for trouble. Claire nudged me and showed me the bag of weed she had in her purse. We slipped outside and smoked until we were both laughing just looking at each other.  

Most of the rest of the night went like that. I couldn't find Niall, Liam or Zayn, but Claire stuck by me. We drank ourselves stupid until last call. I was too drunk to really think about anything. There were guys and girls dancing all over us. Someone slipped a pill into my hand and I swallowed it back without question. There was a pretty blonde boy. He just kept kissing me, and I just kept laughing into his kiss. My sweat mixed with the crowd around me and I felt free. I felt like the kind of person I really wanted to be. I was care-free. I was limitless. It was two in the morning and the club was never closing because I would never be done dancing.  

That, of course was not a fact and soon Claire, all of our new friends and I were standing outside the club sharing cigarettes and pressing lips to places of each other that barely made sense. Claire kissed me. I think everyone kissed me, and I kissed everyone. I was fucked. I was totally gone. Drunk on the booze and high as a kite who knew how many drugs and the energy was _endless_. We could have conquered the world.  

But, instead we ended up back at Claire's flat, blasting EDM and dropping more pills. The sun had come up at some point, but we just kept dancing. There was nothing in the world that could have brought us down. There was an endless supply of alcohol and sex and drugs and cigarettes. The music was loud, but my freedom was louder. I wasn't in control of anything. Everything was happening around me and I couldn't affect any of it. I could just dance and let the world play out as it would.  

There was the blonde boy again. He was pressing lips to every part of skin that he found (I wasn't wearing a shirt?) and he danced against me. I felt his skin against mine and it was hot and sweaty and he was going to take. He was going to take everything bad away, and I knew that, somehow when he pulled me into the corner and started undoing my pants. We was sloppy, nails scraping  against sensitive parts of skin, his kisses were wet and most of the time he was just kissing the corners of my mouth. I relented. I stopped moving completely. I let him do what he wanted, and he sucked me off in the corner of the flat that was just barely out of sight of our new friends. I didn't know his name. I didn't need to, really. I never wanted to see him again. I just wanted exactly what he had given me: freedom to forget.  

"Have you ever done jumping jacks in the park at 8 in the morning?" I asked the blonde boy. 

He shook his head and he lead me back to the group of sweaty bodies grinding to the music. Claire kissed him then, sucking the come off the corners of his mouth. It was just an endless sea on people in the tiny flat and it probably broke every single fire code in creation. Claire was making out with some girl with pink hair, but I grabbed her. She leaned in and kissed me sloppy and I laughed against her.  

"Harry's in love!" She announced to no one in particular. I laughed as I dragged her out of the flat with the blonde boy and the girl with the pink hair.  

We were in the park then, jumping up and down endlessly. The pink haired girl was leading our exercises, but Claire and I were laughing hysterically. We bounced happily up and down and up and down, and I realized then that I may never, ever sleep again. I would be awake for ever and we would own the world, the sky and just _everything._ We were endless and so, so powerful.  

That was until a group of mums who wanted their children to play in the park came to yell at us. I thought we had looked like a proper, together group of fitness gurus, but the mums saw a bunch of kids stoned on MDMA and threatened to call the police. And that was the moment I lost Claire and the blonde boy. I was alone, walking down the London streets, and in broad daylight my display seemed a lot less dignified. I kind of just felt like a kid who had made a proper mess of my life.  

And one thing just kept ringing in my head: Claire's announcement to everyone that I was in love. Well, it must have been true because even a perfect stranger had seen it. I'd tried so hard to forget, but as I wondered the London streets, blasted out of my mind, all I could think about was Louis and how much I wanted to call him to rescue me. I was just putting off the inevitable. I was just avoiding my feelings in the most immature and reckless way, and somehow as the veil on the night was lifted and the sun was back in the sky, I knew this. And I hurt. 

 ...

 

 _The club was empty. I was standing alone on the dancefloor and I had a resounding feeling of loneliness in the pit of my stomach. I'd alienated everyone who cared about me and I was completely alone. I heard footsteps from behind me. Two sets._  

 _"Poor Louis,"_  

 _It was Ronnie. His voice came from behind me._  

 _"Poor Louis thought that he was falling in love with someone who would love him back. You did a bang up job of that, didn't you?"_  

 _As usual, in my dreams when he monologued, I couldn't speak._  

 _"You managed to break my heart and break his heart all at the same time. You lied and lied and_ lied. _You made him fall in love with you and you didn't give me anything. You just left me in the shadows. You let me rot here, waiting and waiting for you. You told him he was the_ best. _You took everything away from me. Harry, you broke us. You broke me and we can never be the same. You don't love me—not anymore. You treat me like a_ _villain_ _. You mad_ _e me not matter."_  

 _I wanted to say something. I wanted to argue with him, because he would never stop mattering to me. He had been everything for so long. He would always, always be a part of me._  

 _"And the worst part, the very worst part of it all, Harry?" He was crying, hard and I still hadn't turned to face him. I couldn't do it. "Is that you couldn't just leave it at that. You couldn't just hurt the dead boy, you wrecked the one who was still alive. You wrecked Louis after everything,"_  

 _"Ronnie,"_  

 _It was Tessa's voice. Tessa never spoke in my dreams. She never said a word, but this time her words held a warning in them._  

 _"We talked about this," she said, "you have to stop,"_  

 _He was sobbing loudly now, and I turned to face them. Tessa was holding his hand, and they were prefect. They were exactly the two people from the_ _picture on the stone. Tessa was here and Ronnie was a mess and this was so different. They were never here like this, never together._  

 _"You've_ _gotta_ _let him go," she said, her voice was soft, like she felt his pain as her own. She looked to me then, "Harry," her voice was full of fondness and she was exactly the girl I remembered her being. She was soft and beautiful and her voice was so calm and so relaxing._  

 _"Tess," finally, finally, I could speak and I had so many things I wanted to say to her, but she stopped me._  

 _"Harry, listen," she instructed, "Ronnie hasn't been fair. I don't think he's ever been fair. We've been gone a long time, Harry and your life has nothing to do with us," her sentence set a fire in the pit of my stomach, a pain I wasn't used to, "and that's how it's supposed to be. I'm not sad about that, Harry. You need to make yourself happy and I think you know what that means," she reached out and wiped away the tears falling from her brother's eyes. "We made our choice, Harry. We died. We have no right to affect anything that you do. Ronnie has no right to do that to you,"_  

 _I looked to Ronnie now and he was a mess. He was sobbing and crying, and Tessa was just holding his hand and staring directly at me._  

 _"We—_ he _can't ask you to keep promises. He broke his. He left you and that wasn't fair, but you have done so well. You can have everything Harry, but you have to let us go. You have to let him go so that you can make a life. That's how its supposed to happen, Harry. Mum, she's so happy for you. She's been talking to your mum and they're all so happy to see you happy and you have to chase it Harry. You have to get him. Forget the promises you made to my brother. You were everything you said you'd be and he knows that, don't you, Ronnie?"_  

 _His eyes met mine, and the flow of tears had stopped. He nodded his head slowly. I didn't know what was happening._  

 _"Let me go," he said, but the words marred with pain and the look on his face made the fire in my stomach lick the edges of my entire body. Longing. I was full of longing. I wanted to take the pain from his eyes._  

 _"It's time," said Tessa, "it's time for you to think about yourself, about Louis. We want that. We want that for you, Harry. You've been so good to us. You've been such a good friend. Now, we need to do the same,"_  

 _Tessa was speaking, but my eyes were locked on Ronnie. Did he want this? Did he really want to leave me? It didn't feel like it and the longing inside of me made my heart ache._  

 _"I'm done, Harry," he said finally, gripping Tessa's hand tightly. "I'm done being selfish. You've sacrificed so much for me for so long and it isn't right. You gave up so much for me and I can't—I_ won't _ask you to give up Louis. Louis is going to be the one, Harry and you have to let him. You have to let him because he's better than me. He's braver than me. He can take care of you,"_  

 _Tessa was nodding, "Please, Harry, it's time,"_  

 _"Let me go," said Ronnie._  

 _I was crying. My chest hurt and I felt like I'd already been here so many times. How many times would I have to let him go?_ _All that had kept me going for so many years was the fact that even though he was gone, he had never been a far reach. But this was a lot. This was for real. He was asking me to let him go for real this time. If I let this happen, I wouldn’t be able to reach for him in my dreams anymore. He'd be gone. He'd be gone for real and all I'd have were the memories we'd made. The good peppered with the bad._  

 _"Ronnie," my voice was pain, it hurt. It hurt so much to speak._  

 _"Harry, please, do this. Do this for yourself,"_  

 _"I don't want to let you go,"_  

 _"But it's time. This is how it works Harry. I made the choice. I died. You didn't die Harry, you're still alive and you have to start living. You deserve it. You've been everything for me for so long and it's time to think of yourself,"_  

 _Nothing made sense. This wasn't Ronnie. This wasn't how he worked._  

 _"Harry, please," said Tessa. This was strange._ They _were pleading with_ me. _It didn't make sense. Why did they want me to let go? For so long I'd been their only link to their life, but now they didn't want me._  

 _"I'm ready," said Ronnie, "I'm ready to watch you be happy. I'm ready to let it happen. I want this Harry. I want to let you go,"_  

 _We were both crying now because it was so final. Maybe we'd never speak like this again. He came to me then, wrapping me in his arms and the fire_ _inside of me threatened to burn me completely. I felt like I was dying with him. He'd been such a part of me for so long I couldn't imagine what the future would feel like._  

 _"I love you Harry, I'll always love you," he whispered against my skin, "you were the best gift I was ever given. I never had to question you. I never should have. You are everything Harry, and I'm so lucky I got to have you, but it's his turn now, okay?"_  

 _Ronnie pulled away from me and walked toward the door._  

 _Tessa stared at me a moment, and put her hand on my cheek. "We were so lucky to have you Harry," she was crying too as she pulled me in for a hug. Sh_ _e held me tightly and smelled exactly as my memory had preserved her. "I love you Harry, now go get him,"_  

 _She released me from our hug and walked toward the door where Ronnie was waiting. She took his hand again and the sunlight fell into the dark and empty club as she opened the door. Ronnie looked back at me one last time and smiled—looking exactly like the star I remembered him as. They walked together and that was it. They were gone. Maybe forever. For real this time._  

 _My_ _grief_ _hit me then and I fell to the floor, clutching my chest, trying to process the pain that was happening there._  

... 

I don't know how I'd gotten to Niall's flat, but I when I woke up, I was asleep in his bed. He was nowhere to be found, though and my head was screaming at me. The lights were too bright, the sound of me swallowing was too loud. Agony was the only way to describe the feeling in my stomach. My head was throbbing out a steady, awful rhythm. After the dream I'd just had, I realized I was crying. That didn't help. Crying just added to the overall physical agony I was in. This was the hangover from hell. This might actually be the thing that killed me. I felt like I'd been struck by several vehicles, thrown off a building and left to decay in my torment. To quite literally _rot in my misery_.  

I tried to swallow again, but my mouth was so dry that it was impossible. That's when the door opened. I didn't know in that moment, where I actually wanted to be. My dreams were scary and not safe at all, but real life? Real life was pain and suffering and I didn't want any part of that either. There was no safe place. There was nothing that could possibly make me feel better.  

"It's alive," said Niall softly. There was no trace of anger in his voice. There was no sign that we were in the same bad place we'd been lately. He was just Niall, and he had a glass of water and a bottle of tylenol in his hand.  

"Barely," I responded.  

He handed me the glass and kept his voice low, "what the hell happened, Harry, what did you take?" 

"I don't know—pills," I admitted shamefully.  

"I was scared, Harry, I didn't know if you were ever going to wake up. It's Sunday morning. You showed up here Saturday morning," 

Oh, god. What had I done? 

"I'm sorry," I said honestly, because I was sorry. I was so sorry that I'd put Niall through this for the millionth time.  

He shook his head, "I was an ass, Harry. I haven't been a good friend to you. I just kept pushing and pushing and that wasn't what you needed and I'm sorry. You needed me to listen, and I didn't do that. You're hurting and I'm sorry that I didn't just shut my fucking mouth and listen to you," 

I was still crying and my head was still pounding. 

"And I was so scared that you weren't going to wake up," 

I let myself cry then, hard painfully against Niall. He held me and I felt like we were finally back in the place we used to be, before I'd become a messy, selfish monster and ruined it all. I cried for a long time, until it felt like a fault line had opened in my head. Niall didn't say a word. He didn't ask anything of me, he just let me get it out. I'd lost so much in the last couple of weeks, but it was all coming to a head now. It was all sinking in now that Ronnie was gone.  

Finally my crying slowed. I wanted to talk. I wanted to say things to Niall and make him understand. I was a horrible, infectious leech and I hated it. I wanted to be better. I wanted to be more and I wanted to take away all the hurt I'd caused all the people I'd loved. I didn't want to be this self-pitying creature for another second.  

"He's gone," as all I managed to say. It was so hard to speak against the throbbing in my head.  

"Who's gone?" And Niall was really listening this time because he knew that I could have been speaking about either of them. Maybe I was talking about both of them. I didn't really know.  

"Ronnie," I said, "Louis. They're gone and its just me and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that," 

He hugged me then, "Harry, you're perfect on your own, you should know that. You're great how you are," 

The words fell out of my mouth like verbal waterfall, I was finally ready for them, and for all that they would bring along, "I love him Niall, I love him so much it hurts and I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to be good for him. I don't know how to stop hurting everyone I care about, but he's it, Niall. He's everything I never knew I needed and I love him. I love him so much and he's gone. He's gone and he hates me and he'll never know," 

Instead of filling me with 'I told you so's, he just held me. He didn't make it about the million times he'd told me I loved Louis. He just let me feel it. He just let me process it all and let it wash over me. It was a lot. It was big and heavy—and really it was too late, wasn't it? It was too late and I was too hungover to feel this much.  

"So you're going to LA," Zayn's voice floated into the room. He was soft too, placing the idea in the middle of the chaos and it was really the only thing that made any sense.  

"What if he doesn't believe me?" I asked. 

They both responded in unison, "He will," 

Niall held me close against his body, "He loves you Harry, a few shitty weeks didn't change that—I promise you," 

Zayn was nodding, "It's gonna be okay Harry. Go get Louis. Go home,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The playlist for this chapter was really important to me. So I mean, I'd highly recommend listening to all of them--just saying. 
> 
> The beginning part, where Harry just keeps feeling like shit, the song it Creep by Radiohead and Hurt by Nine Inch Nails
> 
> For the panics, one of my all time favourite songs-- A Deep Slow Panic by AFI
> 
> The Face Beneath the Waves is Ronnie. 
> 
> When Harry is breaking down, dreaming about Ronnie the song is Monster by Eminem and Rhianna because, folks, Harry is literally in love with the monster inside of his head. There's not a more fitting song for this bit. 
> 
> When Niall and Harry talk--Even my Dad does Sometimes-Ed Sheeran
> 
> And Lego House is because, at the end I think that Harry gets a little bit of hope? 
> 
> I'm in love with cliches, and my favourite is comparing Louis to the sun (not sorry).
> 
> Also, it should be noted that I am not typically the 'Happy Ending' sort with my writing. I like real life. Real messes. I'm going to try to not disappoint anyone with this one.
> 
> But I can almost guarantee you that my best attempt at an ending will come within the next 24-36 hours.


	27. Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks!
> 
> Playlist for this chapter:
> 
> Harry has a song and its Everything You Are- by (of course) Ed Sheeran because my whole life is Ed Sheeran...
> 
> Louis' songs are:  
> All of the Stars- by (you guessed it) Ed Sheeran ;)  
> Tenerife Sea- Ed Sheeran (ha)  
> Through the Dark- One Direction
> 
> Mutually:  
> If I Could Fly- One Direction  
> Home- One Direction  
> Right Now- One Direction (because this is always the song I imagine for happy endings)

_**Louis** _

 

I'd been to LA a few times before, and I thought I'd been prepared, but it was fucking _hot._  I was probably going to literally boil alive inside of my skin if I didn't get back inside. I'd left the studio about 4 hours ago and I'd just been sitting on a random beach contemplating what my next move was going to be. Things with work were good, really good. I was recording with an act that I was proud of, an act that I'd helped grow into their success and we were making a really great album together. It was just me and them—no one left to mentor me because that's what they'd wanted. I was growing and that was something that I felt pretty proud of.  

The offer for me to stay in LA indefinitely had been laid out. But it was just that—just an offer. Just a movement from London to LA. It wouldn't change my place, my pay or my title, it would just give me the chance to stare at 4 new walls instead of the ones I was so used to. It was a very appealing idea, given the mess I'd left behind me in London. At one time in my life, I would have called London home, but now it didn't really feel like that. I felt homeless. I had nothing, really. Nothing that really mattered. Nowhere felt like home anymore because home had been crushed to smithereens by the same person who had built it.  

I'd let Harry become home, but I'd neglected to realize that he didn't want that. Harry didn't want a home, and he certainly didn't want to find it in another person.  

Sure, at first it had been agony. The guilt I felt for the things I'd said to him was crushing and stupid, because rationally he'd deserved the words. Feelings were just feelings and they didn't have to be convenient to exist. I had the right to be hurt by Harry's cruelty. It was stupid to feel guilt about it because it was perfectly justified. I hated being rational sometimes. I hated being able to see through the storm of my own emotions. It left me in a horrible cycle of over thinking everything.  

Worst of all though, even though I knew better than to feel such stupid, useless things, I missed him. I missed him a stupid amount. I missed him in places I least expected (like how I now bought shampoo and conditioner instead of 2 in1), and regardless of the scenery change, the emptiness lingered.  

But it had now been nineteen days since the night he'd gone to the club without me. That was a stupid amount of time to still be so affected by just the _idea_ of him. I missed his skin, his laugh and his dumb collection of head scarves and hats that looked stupid on every other person on earth but him.  

This was going to be a hard one. I'd known it from the start, but I hadn't expected the fall to be so hard. I hadn't expected to end up so damaged and bloody and broken inside of every nook and cranny inside of my soul—but I suppose that's what happens when you fall in love with someone who was never willing to catch you.  

I hated it. I hated the constant ache in the back of my mind. The way my skin never felt warm or real. There was a fog around me and I felt like I wasn't really there, like I wasn't really present in my body. There was a longing tugging at me in every moment, in every place and every part of my life.  

I laid out on the beach, watching the sunset. My chest hurt and I missed—everything really. I missed my friends and my sister and my mum and all the madness there was back home. I was lonely and I was so far away from everything. Liam and I had been texting a bit but the time difference made it too hard to really have a proper conversation. I was still jet-lagged and sleeping at the strangest possible hours. Everything was just so different here, on the other side of the world. I had wanted it, I had hoped that it would be more than it was.  

But the reality was, as I stared up at the sky and the first stars began to make their appearance, that Harry was staring at the exact same stars. And I don't know why that hurt so much. I don't know why it was all I could think about. But there was really no way to totally separate him from me. He'd always be staring at the same sky from a different horizon. He would always be there and there was no real way for me to change that. Everything would always come back to him.  

Everything would come back to him and I and the fact that even though I'd given him everything possible, it wasn't enough. He didn't want it. He'd seen me for everything I was, he'd held onto me through so many nights under so many skies and it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough so save him, or whatever it was he needed. I wasn't enough. And it didn't stop hurting. 

 

Finally, once I'd gotten my fill of sweating under the stars, I decided it was time to go back to my hotel (that was another thing—my label had suggested if I planned to be here awhile that maybe I should be renting a place, but I really wasn't ready to set up anymore temporary homes). LA traffic was a bit exhausting, even at ten in the evening it took me longer than it should have to make it back to the hotel. I hadn't really eaten anything all day, so maybe that's what I'd do with the rest of my night (and, no I wasn't making it my mission to find the best green smoothie in LA—there was no proof). 

As I made my way up to my floor I hummed along to the elevator music. Maybe tomorrow would be better. I don't know why I thought it, but I was flirting with the concept. There had to be a better day coming.  

As the elevator chimed and I arrived at my floor, I dug into the pocket of my jeans, searching for my keycard. I turned the corner to my room and in front of my door was something really peculiar. It was a blue duffle bag, covered in airline tags and I recognized it. I recognized it because only a couple of weeks ago I'd quite literally thrown the sodding thing at Harry.  

 _Harry._  

Harry was here. He had to be. There was no other explanation that could make any sense. A cold, heavy fear dropped into my stomach. _Hope_. I felt it against all of my better judgement. Harry was here. He was here somewhere, and he'd found me and everything felt right. I needed to see him, to see his face and know what the hell was happening because none of it made any bloody sense.  

I turned my gaze to the group of chairs at the end of the hallway, and there, crumpled up on one of the chairs was Harry. He was here. He was in LA and he was fast asleep on a chair just a few feet away from my hotel room door and this was _huge._ I let myself hope. Fuck it. Fuck it all, because I wanted to hope. I wanted to believe that Harry had flown ten and a half hours because of me. I wanted it. I wanted the hope and I wasn't going to deny myself.  

It was incredible to me that after being so thoroughly hurt just weeks ago that I had no qualms whatsoever about seeing him. Something just felt right and I had to wake him up. I had to see him, I had to hear his voice and it was okay. It was okay to hope because it was Harry and Harry was everything.  

I just about ran down the damn hall to where he was. He was so perfect and exactly as I had remembered him, but no memory did him real justice. He was better. So much better than anything I could have preserved in my mind and he was _here._ There was no other reason he would be here. Harry had nothing else that would have ever brought him across the Atlantic. It was _me_.  

I knelt down next to him and brushed the curls that were falling out of his beanie from his eyes. His breathing changed. He was waking up and this was it. Whatever he'd come here for, it was about to happen. The second he opened his eyes, the anxiety left my stomach. I smiled. He seemed confused by the expression, but he was _here_ —of course I was going to smile.  

"Hey," was all I said. 

He looked at me then, met my eyes and he looked like he was in pain. He looked so sad and I wanted to make it all go away because this wasn't sad! He was here. He was in LA and I was in LA and we were under the same stars and we belonged to the same horizon. It was _right_.  

We stood up at the same time and he looked so timid, so nervous like I hadn't seen all the parts of him and loved him any way. Like there was some kind of question about us instead of a complete and utter devotion beyond sense or reason or distance or anything else that could have existed between us. It was him, it was Harry and it just made sense.  

He had words. They were balancing percariously on his tongue, but he acted like they would make a difference. He'd already given me the worst. He couldn't hurt me more than he already had. I could take it. I could take it and erase it and make everything perfect.  

I walked to the door of my hotel room and opened it quickly. He followed behind me, uncertain. Like he thought I was going to send him away, after he'd flown across on ocean for me. He was so wrong. It would take a lot for me to send him away for that, and a million other reasons. 

I suppose, a part of me, when I looked back at this moment, might be disappointed that I'd given in so easily. That I'd just gone to him, that I'd just opened the door for him without a word (because his lack of words had been a constant frustration to me) but it just felt how it felt. I could analyze it later, because right now Harry was standing in my hotel (which was a mess—oops) and he was looking like he was about to give the speech of his life and also like he was in utter agony. I didn't want to see him like this. I didn't like the pain in his expression. I wanted it gone, whatever that meant.  

"I suppose I owe you more than a few explanations," he started and I was nodding, just nodding because he was there and he was speaking and basically, anything he said was right. "I'll just start with the two most important things," his lips were so pink and his eyes were puffy and I could see it in him how much it took for him to be here. To have done this for me. "First of all, I'm sorry—which, really is nothing compared to what you deserve to hear," 

"Harry—I," but he shook his head, cutting me off.  

"No, its my turn now," he said firmly, "you're always talking and always filling in the blanks and that's not fair. None of this has been fair to you, Lou, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that it took me this long to get on a plane because I should have been sitting on it next to you, not chasing you down weeks later. I never should have let you leave any of those times. I should have just talked to you," 

I wasn't sure if I was allowed to speak yet, to I just rocked from my heels to my toes and held my hands behind my back, watching as he extracted every single word directly from his soul. It didn't take long before he was speaking again.  

"I have so much—so, so much that I have to say to you, Louis," he wrapped his arms around his ribcage, holding himself together. He was teetering, just about to jump into places that he never went. I didn't know what I thought he might say, but the words were so unexpected and they stuck me hard, right in every part of my soul.  

"I love you," he tested the words, and for a split second there wasn't enough air in the room. A heat flushed through my entire body because those were the very last words I had expected to hear—and so soon.  

"I'm in love with you, Louis Tomlinson, _you_ and nobody else. You're everything. You make just being alive the best thing. I just—I knew since before you told me, but I was scared and I don't know why. I was scared that I was going to ruin you," 

"Harry," I was in shock. His words just kept hitting me in waves. Over and over and this was it. Somehow I was existing in the same world as Harry Styles and he—he _loved_  me.  

"And I'm sorry Louis, I'm sorry it took me this long to tell you. I'm sorry that I just kept lying to you," he took a deep breath and I didn't miss the way his chest trembled, "I'm sorry I told you that day in your car that kissing you was a moment of weakness. I'm sorry I kept pushing you away. You have never been my weakness—not for a second Louis. You've given me strength I never thought I'd have. You're selfless, you're always so selfless for me and I haven't ever done the right things," 

He was wrong though, so wrong. He'd given me so much. He'd opened himself to me—shown me parts of him that he'd never shown anyone. And that was enough—he had to know that. Again, though, he held up his hand, telling me he wasn't finished.  

"No, Louis, I have to say these things," he was shaking now, completely, all of him. I wanted to go to him, to hold him and tell him it was okay, that I loved him too. I wanted to take away his fear, his panic, but he wanted so badly to do this, to talk to me. So I stayed where I was, still rocking back and forth, my whole body inclining toward him. 

"I have no right to come here and ask anything of you. I have no right to ask you to make me promises because that's on me. I owe you promises, and I want that. I want to make you a million promises every single day. And I know you have no reason to believe any of them because I've done nothing but let you down, but this is it, Louis. This is me, and I'm going to give you all of it, and I know that it might not be enough—that I might not ever be enough, but I can't just let you walk away without knowing how I feel," he paused, gaining confidence in his speech, "Because I love you. I love you Lou and I used to think that love broke people, but I was wrong. You were the first person who ever saw through the bad and thought I was worth saving. 

"I've already asked so much of you, and you've always been so perfect. You looked right at me and Ronnie and you—" he sobbed then, "you said he was _lucky_. You let me know it was okay to love you both. Louis, you're the most selfless person in the world and _I'm_ lucky. I'm lucky that you would ever love a mess like _me,"_  

He saw me about to open my mouth and correct him and shook his head--but he wasn't a mess! He was abstract, and maybe it wasn't easy for everyone who met him to see the beauty, but I saw it all. He was a carefully arranged piece of art and he just got deeper and more complexly beautiful the more I looked at him.  

"And I'm sorry," he was just straight crying now, bawling hard and trying to even his breathing enough to continue, "that I tried to break us. I thought for sure that I was just a matter of time before you saw me for what I was and that you'd leave, so I had to break it first. I had to have the power because I couldn't handle the idea that you'd see me for who I was and decide it's too much. I'm sorry. I'm sorry and, like I said, I have no right to expect anything of you. I didn't even expect that you'd let me apologize. You're so good, Louis," 

He took a deep breath then, "And so, even though I know I have no right to ask—I'm asking you, Louis. Let me love you the way you deserve. Let me change my Facebook status and put you as my emergency contact. Let me spend Christmas with your family and let me clean up after you and teach you how to whisk. I don't have a lot to give you, Louis, but you can have it all. You don't have to share me with anyone because—he—I let him go. I'm not going to live in the past anymore because that wasn't my best. You are my best and I want to be gross like Zayn and Liam and I want to marry you and I want you to show me the world. I want everything if it's with you," he took a deep breath, and I swear the boy thought that I might not say yes. That I might not agree to every single thing he was asking of me. 

"Now, before you say anything else," he started, staring into the hotel, eying up the piano in the corner.  

He moved then, walking toward it, I followed him. He pulled out the bench and sat down at it, pulling up the cover. He put his hands on the keys and played a few chords absently, adjusting to the sound of it. I sat next to him, my knee knocking against his and he looked over at me.  

"I dreamed a lot, after you left that day, about flying," I listened intently to every word he way saying because no moment in my life had ever been as important as these last few moments with him. "and I thought to myself about some of the things you said when we first met. About how 'home' changes, and I realized that if I could fly, I'd only ever be going to one place—and that place would be home. And home did change, Lou," he paused a minute, his hands moving softly across the keys, "you're home. So I wanted to show you something—something I wrote for you," 

My heart was actually breaking—or repairing itself. I didn't know which one it was, but the cracks inside of it were aching with every word he said. I wanted to be closer to him, to take away all of his wasted trepidation. There was a longing in my chest to take away all the questions he kept eluding to. Pain kept searing into my chest, but I stayed quiet and waited for him. 

But then he started playing. The notes were soft, yet deliberate. Almost instantly he started signing, his voice deep and gravelly and _everything._ Harry should have had a shelf full of Grammy's and a million fans chasing down his tour bus because _this?_  This was incredible. This was Harry's hardened and worn heart. He'd taken it directly out of his chest and he'd laid it down on the top of that piano. This was the very best and biggest thing that Harry had ever given me.  

If I could fly, I'd be coming right back home to you   
I think I might give up everything, just ask me to   
Pay attention, I hope that you listen 'cause I let my guard down   
Right now I'm completely defenseless 

For your eyes only, I'll show you my heart   
For when you're lonely and forget who you are   
I'm missing half of me when we're apart   
Now you know me, for your eyes only   
For your eyes only 

His voice soared through octaves like it was his day-job. He hit every single note he went for, gliding right through the air like this was the millionth time he'd played this song. This was him, this was him put to music and it was even more beautiful than I could have anticipated.  

 _For your eyes only_  

His voice echoed through the room as his fingers rested on the final chord. Everything around us was silent and I was speechless. Since the moment I'd seen him, I'd thought of a million things I wanted to say to him, but I didn't remember any of it now. I was a songwriter. This was what I did. I took parts of myself and polished and adjusted them for the rest of the world to hear. I did this every day of my life—but this? Harry hadn't polished or perfected any parts of his song. He'd let himself bleed into it and it was so raw, so open and so much a part of him that it was truly astounding. I'd probably said a billion words in my life, but if Harry never said another one I'd have known it all. I'd have known every single crevice that existed inside of him. He'd shown me his soul in just three minutes and I'd probably spend the rest of my life trying to show him mine.  

I was weeping. There was nothing else to do in the aftermath of such a huge moment.  

His eyes were on me and they were heavy and unsure. He still didn't know what to expect.  

"Can I speak now?" My voice was rough and scratchy from crying. 

He nodded slowly.  

I sat there, next to Harry on the limb that he was standing on, thinking of what part of his speech, of his grand gesture, to acknowledge first. There was so much and I wanted to be like him. I wanted to say it all so perfectly, but that wasn't me. My words never came out so beautifully. He was watching me now, waiting for me to talk to him. To decide his fate or something ridiculous like that.  

I didn't have words. I leaned against his shoulder, wrapping my arms desperately around his torso. I buried my face in his neck, trying to get back into the places that really felt like home. And that was it. This was it. There weren't words to say, we were just here, together in the wake of the most beautiful song ever written and Harry had quite literally flown home to me.  

His arms came around me, tentative at first, but the closer I buried my face against him, the more sure he became.  

"I love you, Louis. You'll always feel like home," 

I was smiling, grinning like a psychatric patient, actually. I looked up into his green eyes and he smiled back at me, "I have something I need you to hear, too," I said, pulling the beanie off of his head and tossing it across the room. His hair tumbled down around his face and down his shoulders and I was still just smiling like a complete buffoon. I wrapped my hands around his curls and pulled his face toward mine, "but, first," I said, and Harry was finally smiling, finally feeling it, "kiss me, you fool!" 

Our smiles met and he pulled me to him, his lips sure and certain that this was exactly what I wanted (and really, how could it have taken him this long to believe it?). He kissed me with fervor and I filled him up with all the promises I had left inside of me. We weren't crying, not anymore. It was just a calm, still day. The hurricaine had passed. Harry tasted like everything I remembered. He was perfection and his lips moved so neatly and perfectly against mine like we were made for each other. I was so full of cliches and I was completely content to continue waxing poetic for as long as I was wrapped up in this—in him. In Harry, in our happy ending.  

When we broke apart, he just held me against him silently for a long time. I think maybe he was out of words because he'd already said everything—and said it so well.  

"I have to play you a song, Harry, and its just going to be proof," 

"Proof of what?" 

"Proof that this is where we're supposed to be. Proof that you're my soulmate. Just—proof, okay?" 

He was giving me that fond smile and it felt like there had been no time between our little moments, "You sap," was all he said. 

"You told me you wanted cheese, and Darling, I'm a walking fromagerie," 

He kissed my nose, and stared at me with the brightest green eyes on the planet. "Show me," 

We sat in front of my computer as I queued up the song, "this is the first song I wrote when I came here, and it’s the first one we finished for the album," I explained and then my words filled the room and I watched Harry. 

Still high with a little feeling   
I see the smile as it starts to creep in   
It was there, I saw it in your eyes   
   
I was stumbling, looking in the dark    
With an empty heart   
But you say you feel the same   
Could we ever be enough?   
Baby we could be enough   
   
And it's alright   
Calling out for somebody to hold tonight   
When you're lost, I'll find the way   
I'll be your light   
You'll never feel like you're alone   
I'll make this feel like home 

 

Harry's eyes were full of so much emotion that I didn't know how to process them all. I waited for him to speak, but he wasn't saying anything. He just slipped his hand in mine and kissed my cheek.  

"That," his words finally penetrated the still air of the hotel room, "is the best song you've ever written," 

"Sure that's not the narcissist in you speaking?" It was so easy! Harry made it look like he was so unsure of everything and he still looked at me like I was going to change my mind, but it was just simple math. One Harry plus one Louis—it made _home._  

He still looked so serious though, like my jokes didn't ease any of his doubts. His eyes were heavy and gleaming with tears and I didn't get it. Had I not been clear enough? 

"Harry?" 

He touched my face, cupping my cheek in his hand, his eyes so full of something I didn't recognize, "Louis," 

"I'm in love with you, you know that, right?" 

He nodded, but the look on his face didn't lift. I sighed and took his hand. I led him back to the door. "Stand here," instructed, walking toward the bedroom. 

"Why?" He asked, incredulous. 

"Because I'm going to show you how this should have gone. I mean, you didn't need to make it so bloody _sad_ , did you Harold? I mean you're not handing out the death sentence, Harry, you're giving me everything I ever wanted," 

He smiled at me and nodded slowly, standing obediently in his place. 

"Now, act like you've just walked through the door, and when I walk in, tell me you love me," I said, walking back toward the bedroom.  

Harry was easy. I knew how to fix this. I knew how to make him laugh and remember how perfect we were. I knew him like I knew myself and I was finally allowed to say it. I was finally here—finally in this place with Harry and knew, somehow,  that this was it. Harry wasn't going to run anymore. He wasn't going to run anywhere unless it was with me. It was like a giant lock clicked into place. We were home. We were perfect. We were infinite.  

I walked from the bedroom toward the front door, channeling my inner hollywood starlette. I pranced toward him, dramatically clasping my chest, "Harry, what are _you_  doing here?" 

He grinned at me then, crooked, like he was trying to keep it off his face and play his part perfectly (gosh, he was adorable). "I'm in love with you Louis, run away with me," 

I ran to him then, flinging my arms around his neck, "Oh, _Harry_ ," I cried as I wrapped my legs around his waist. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the ground and spinning me in a circle.  

"Be mine," he said, pressing my back against the door, not placing me back on the ground. We were both grinning and when he leaned in to seal it with a kiss we laughed into each other. His tongue was hot and wet and he kissed me proper, like a movie. My head spun a bit with the force behind the entire gesture. 

And then he placed me back on the ground, leaving me totally breathless from his kiss. I panted and looked up at him, "Whaddya think? Was it enough? Or should we do a second take in the rain? Oh! Or maybe under the stars on the roof of your car?" 

He smiled down at me, "it was perfect, Lou, you're prefect. The best at happy endings," 

I pecked him quickly, taking both of his hands in mine and swinging them back and forth happily, "Happy beginnings—we won't get an ending, Harry, just lots and lots of chapters,"  

He kissed me hard then, squeezing my hands tightly. He kissed my neck softy and I whispered in his ear, "say it again, Harry," 

"I love you Louis William Tomlinson," he whispered back, "you're my best. You're my home. You're my one. You're the love of my life. You're the sun, Louis," 

I was only the sun because he made me glow. He gave me a reason to be bright.  

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This was a really hard moment for me, I don't know why, but typing the words "The End" just felt so final. I've been writing this fic for ages and it feels like I just lost a part of me. #thewritinghangoverisreal
> 
> I've got the next two fics planned out, so I should be back in business soon, but I'm gonna need a biiiiiit of time to recover. 
> 
> Also, I'm making an epilogue so that everyone can believe and trust in my ability to craft a real, happy ending.


	28. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to cry because its all done. All I had left was this last little offering of fluff.
> 
> While writing this I mostly just listened to Paris by the Chainsmokers on repeat but also Photograph by Ed Sheeran fits well.

_**Harry** _

 

_Six Months Later_

 

Niall slammed the box in his arms loudly onto the counter, rattling the plates inside. I shot him a warning glance, "easy with the goods, you oaf," 

Niall laughed loudly and walked over to where I was standing and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I was fiddling with hanging a picture on the wall in the living room. It was kind of a big deal—kind of important to me beyond anything I was really able to vocalize. It was a picture of Ronnie and Tess—the picture I had taken and the same one from their stone. I straightened it and we stepped back to admire my handy work.  

"Looks good, Haz," said Niall, kissing my cheek like the big goober he was.  

Over the past couple of months, Niall had become more sappy than the rest of us. I'd never seen him so happy before, which was alarming because Niall had always been the loud, booming beacon of all things joyful. He was happy for me. He was proud of me and he announced it to anyone who would listen.  

Louis, Liam and Zayn walked in then, each carrying a box. Louis put his down and walked over to us. He put his arm around me from the other side and we all just stared at the picture.  

"I think it's perfect," he sad then, kissing my cheek.  

I kissed him then, Niall's arm still draped around me. I felt Niall pinch my bum and laughed into Louis' mouth, "you're perfect," I murmured to him. 

"It's perfect, Louis perfect, you're perfect—everything is just fucking perfect," announced Niall loudly, "Now you cunts promised pizza and beer for my kind assistance, so pay up!" 

Liam and Zayn were watching us, too, and I felt so happy to have them all here, on this day. A lot of things had changed in the last six months, but this felt like the day that cemented it all. This was the day that Louis and I were merging our lives—officially. I was moving into his flat and I'd finally stopped paying rent for the room I was no longer sleeping in. It felt huge. I'd even signed my name on his lease (because I really was upholding my promise to make promises—something that was much more important to me than Louis who seemed to have endless faith in me).  

I looked at Louis, his face was paler now, his tan finally fading from his skin. We'd spent nearly two months in LA, coming home just in time for Christmas an New Years. Louis and I were making lots of memories these day and lots of promises. Nothing stood in our way. I hadn't seen or spoken to Ronnie since the last time, and while the emptiness ached and I missed him in the quiet moments, everything felt how it would be. I didn't feel the guilt that I'd spend years living in the shadow of. I felt free—and so, so in love.  

And that was it. They don't show the end parts in the movies. They never show the real-life parts, after the grand gestures and the kiss that was supposed to cement everything. I didn't know what to expect for the rest, but it got better somehow. Every single day Louis showed me something new and I loved every single thing. Our love was a ball of pulsing, hot fire and I'd expected that that would be it. That I would just be lucky enough to feel that fire every day and that nothing would change, but I'd been wrong, because things changed every day. Things grew every day. Our love was a monster now, existing in every corner of him and every corner of me and gleaming in the eyes of our friends. Every day with Louis was quite literally the best day of my life. It was just bigger and deeper and heavier every time I looked back at it.  

I looked over to the corner and saw the giant, dark stained piano. Louis bought be a fucking piano. A beautiful antique piano because he knew I loved old, worn things. Things that were shiny and new had never appealed to me (he called me a hipster—I called him a sap who was in love with a hipster). On top of the piano, (which Louis begged me to play for him almost nightly) sat a picture of a day that was on the list of the best days of my life (right alongside the hollywood 'I love you' moment my, sweet, perfect, funny and charming boyfriend had created for me). It was a photo of one of the most chaotic moments I'd ever been a part of, and I kept it on the most precious thing I owned (because I lived a perfect, charmed life where I had a boyfriend who bought me _antique pianos_ ).  

It had been taken Christmas day in Doncaster. Louis was standing in the center, as the thing that held us all together. His smile was huge, his hair messed on his head perfectly and I was (of course) standing next to him, his hand in mine and his mum on my right. Johannah had her arm around me and Dan was kissing her temple. My mom had her arms wrapped around Louis, grinning brightly at the camera. The five of us were standing behind the couch, the Christmas tree lit up brightly behind us. On the couch sat Robin, his arm draped around Gemma who was holding Doris on her lap. Next to her was Lottie and Fizzy, Ernie sandwiched between them and in front of the couch sat Daisy and Pheobe, both of them hugging their dog who was wearing a bright red bow that Lottie had bought. 

And it was perfect. It was more perfect the more I looked at it, because it meant so much. Our lives blended seamlessly and nothing was a sacrifice. Everything in the world adjusted perfectly to us, even the little things like spending Christmas with our families. My mum had been so excited to see Doncaster, hadn't even pouted for a moment about not being home for it. "Christmas is for kids!" She had said excitedly, rationalizing that it only made sense we'd spend Christmas with Johannah's brood of children. And it was perfect.  

My mum had created an instagram account just before the occasion and it was mostly filled with selfies of her and Johannah. They loved each other and just kept planning 'girls weekends' together and meeting in various cities for plays and salon dates and it was all pretty special really.  

Of all the great, amazing things that Louis had given to me (which I might have been keeping a list of in an old leather journal that I kept in my nightstand) one of the very best things was my family. He'd given them back to me, after years of distancing myself and that was pretty incredible. I'd gotten my family back and I'd gained one giant family on the other side, full of people who loved me just as much as I loved them.  

Next to the picture of Christmas was a snapshot of New Year's Eve at some fancy club in London that Louis had gotten us tickets to. New Years had been a memory just as warm as Christmas. We were all standing in front of a red-carpet type wall, with the logo for Louis' label pasted all over it. I stood on the far side, my arm resting on Louis' shoulder, laughing brightly and Louis' eyes were just glued to me, like there was no one else in the room. Next to Louis was Zayn who was kissing Liam shamelessly like all of those cheesy couple pictures that were posted all over the internet (I did _not_  have an entire folder dedicated to pictures of Louis and I kissing on my desktop—no way—I was a serious photographer. I didn't do clichés) (that was a lie, because I did all the clichés for Louis). A foot over from their makeout session, stood Niall, grinning brightly at the camera, a beer in one hand and the other giving the thumbs up.  

The photo was perfect, but it hardly captured the real magic of the night. The real magic was watching as everything in my entire life fell together.  

And then, the rest of that moment burst through the door of Louis'— _our—_ flat.  

"Have you even _been_ on the internet, Louis!" Gemma practically screamed as she blasted into the room, excitement bubbling from every bit of her.  

Niall went to her then, pulled her by the waist and kissed her cheek, "what a way to say 'hello'" he joked. 

And that was a thing—that was very much a thing. It had started sometime while we were in LA. Gemma and Niall didn't have to constantly text each other updates on how well I was doing because I didn't have bad days anymore. They were forced to get to know each other for real, and it just kind of slipped into place. For New Years, she had driven in from Manchester to celebrate with us, they'd had their New Years kiss, and the rest was kind of history. My best friend and my sister—they were a thing. A thing that worked really well. She was finishing the year at the school she was teaching at in Manchester and was starting on with the school board in London in the fall, moving into Niall's flat and all. She came to London a lot, but none of us had been expecting her this day.  

"What are you doing here, Gems?" I asked.  

"You think I was planning on missing the day where my baby brother finally made a real commitment?" She leaned into Niall, grinning over at Louis, "I hope you made him sign a prenup," she joked and Louis shook his head fondly at her.  

"I'm making _you_ sign one," joked Niall.  

"Good!" She smiled up at him, "means when this all goes south, you get to keep all your shitty furniture and dirty dishes," she looked back to Louis then, "But seriously, have you _been_ on the internet?" 

Louis bit his lip, trying to his his smile. His proud smile. The same smile he gave every time he introduced me to someone new. He nodded.  

I elbowed him, something was up. "What's on the internet?" 

Gemma couldn't help but steal the thunder, "They announced the Grammy nominatons!" She was practically screaming loud enough for everyone on the block to hear, "Home is nominated for song of the year, and according to twitter," she explained, "it's the biggest contender. Louis' gonna win a Grammy!" 

I turned to him then, pretending to be surprised that he hadn't told me. Louis was really quiet when it came to his work. He never let it become more important than what was happening between us, and I appreciated that, but this? This was a Grammy! He should have been calling our mums and screaming it to random strangers on the street ( _I_ was definitely going to do both of those things). He gave me his best, most innocent grin. 

"Louis!" Niall and I yelled in unision, and I swept him up, lifting his body off the ground and all but crushing him in my gip. When I put him back down, he was laughing and then Niall was kissing his cheeks endlessly. Zayn and Liam were there now, too, patting his back and whispering congratulations between Niall's wild display of affection. Louis' eyes met mine, and I could tell, despite the fact that he was trying to remain as modest as possible that he was more than a little proud of himself. 

"I told you," I said, knocking Niall out of the way so I could shower him with proper kisses, "that, that was the best song you've ever written," 

God. My life was so fucking magnificent. Everyone was here, with me on the day that I was finally officially moving all of my stuff into our home. I felt so proud of Louis. Proud enough for the both of us, because until the moment he was holding the trophy in his hand, I knew that he would downplay the whole thing. 

"Time for gifts," announced Gemma, reaching into her purse.  

"Gifts?" I said, watching her with curiosity.  

"Gifts, Harry, housewarming gifts. Honestly, this is so normal," she laughed me off, pulling out a big blue whisk with a bow tied around it. I sputtered a laugh and she handed it to Louis.  

"What on earth is this contraption?" he said, playing coy.

"My brother likes pancakes. Blueberry ones with syrup, and not the cheap stuff. The good Canadian stuff," she said, "and if you're going to take care of him now, you're gonna have to take on this responsibility." 

It was a lot more than a whisk. I knew that. Gemma was giving him her blessing, for maybe the hundredth time, but this time it was so much more official. This time she was buying housewares for _our_  home. That was big, and something that she probably thought she would never do.  

Zayn stepped forward then, carrying a painting that he had wrapped in cloth. He handed it to me and I watched him. No gesture from Zayn was small. I pulled back the cloth and looked at the painting. It was an intricate picture of a forest, with the sun rising on the left side of the picture. Parts of the forest were bright and green and detailed and beautiful and parts of it still held the darkness of the night. The painting was deep and beautiful and so perfectly executed that I was stunned. I was taken aback because the majority of the time, Zayn painted the abstract, or sketched pictures of Liam's subtleties, but this was different. It was still very _Zayn_ but it was something more.  

"It's beautiful," I said, not really knowing what had compelled Zayn to make us a paining, but appreciating the sentement regardless. Then he spoke and explaned it all. 

"It's you, Harry," he started, and we were all watching him. "You're the forest. The forest is deep and complex and beautiful on its own. The light, though, it adds to the beauty. It makes it possible to see the complexity—and honestly, forests are scary in the dark," we all laughed at him and then he turned to Louis, "but you're Harry's sun. You make it easier for us all to see him for what he really is. So, this is you two," he said, and Liam was positively cooing at his words, "from one sap to another pair,"  

… 

May was exactly the right time to visit Paris. The air was warm, but not too warm. The weather was bright but it wasn't hot and sticky like LA. Louis had surprised me last week with tickets to Paris, because apparently I was the kind of guy now who received romantic vacations _and_  pianos. My whole life was excessive and outrageous and even on the nights when I wanted to scream at Louis that scrubbing grease stains out of his shirts was _not_  what I'd signed up for, I felt overwhelmed with emotion and love for him, because he was everything I'd signed up for. He was so good, and so much more. He still found new ways to give me all the things I wanted.  

We were sitting on the balcony, staring right out at the Eiffel tower, buzzing on champagne when Louis looked over to me. There was something burning in his eyes. There was always mischief, always myrth and so many other sinfully delighful things behind his eyes. Like yesterday when we stole the housekeeping cart and put it on the roof. Or the night before when we'd driven twice the speed limit in circles around empty parking lots at three in the morning. Every day was a new memory. Every day Louis made me laugh and every night before we fell asleep, I made him a promise. I'd whole heartedly kept my promise to make him promises. Sometimes they were big, like signing onto his lease or bringing home a stray cat (which I'd named Marianne, after Marianne Engel, a character in my favourite novel) or small things like making him breakfast or giving him three blowjobs before noon (and yeah—it was still like that). And, upholding my words from LA, I had not once let Louis make me a promise. I owed it to him. I owed him every promise within me.  

But now Louis was looking at me with those eyes, a smile barely hidden on his lips. His breath hit my cheek and I smelled champagne and I knew he was up to something. I watched him carefully as he reached into his pocket, and I don't know what I expected him to pull out, but a tiny box that looked like it probably had a ring inside? Nope. That wasn't on the list of things I'd expected. 

"I got you something," he said, and I definitely wasn't breathing when he opened up the case and showed me a thin, gold band, littered with tiny diamonds, "and, I know what you're going to say," but I didn't see how that was possible because _I_ didn't even know what I was going to say. I didn't know what he was even doing.  

"I'm not asking you to have a happy ending with me, Harry. I'm just expressing to you how lucky I feel to have been able to get to have a _life_  with you. To be able to roll over in the middle of the night and know you're right there, hogging all the covers," he laughed a bit at that and I laughed to. "So I don't want you to think that I'm giving you some cliché out here on a balcony in Paris—all I want is to give you something to remind you that even on your darkest days I'm always going to be here to tease you and kiss you and remind you how lucky I feel that I get to do that," he paused then, putting the box into my hand, "I'm not breaking the rules, Harry. I'm not making you a promise, I'm just thanking you for all of yours," 

"Louis," I said, slipping the ring onto my finger (it fit perfectly), "I think that this is a promise," 

He shrugged, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. He took my hand and wound his fingers through his, "I was looking for a loophole," 

"Yes," 

"Yes, what? I didn't ask you, anything, remember?" I heard the smile in his words. 

I kissed him then, slow and romantic on a balcony on a warm evening in Paris and we tasted like champagne and he hadn't asked me anything, because Louis always played by my rules. But there was most definitely a ring on my finger and a flutter in my chest because I _loved_  promises. I loved any promise that lived between Louis and I.  

I reached behind me then, picking up the polariod camera I'd been toting around Paris with me since we got here. Louis and I stood on the balcony and I kissed him, holding my arm out to take a picture. When the picture came out of the camera, I turned it over and wrote on the back with a Sharpie.  

 _"We will press promises between us like flowers in a book," -Paris 2017_  

I handed him the picture then and he turned it over in his hands, studing our faces, the words I'd written. He kissed me again, soft and slow. Everything was perfection. Louis was perfection and I would never, ever face the darkness again with the sun by my side.  

"You asked," I said simply, "You asked me and I said yes—a million times _yes_ ,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this. I want to kiss all of your cheeks collectively. 
> 
> It should be noted that from the time I started this story, I had been in the wake of a horrible messy breakup with my fiance at the time, and I didn't have a computer, so I just wrote slowly (and awfully) from my ipad. The beginning of this story is messy and poorly edited and I plan to go back and give it one giant clean up (mostly because I'm not ready to let Louis and Harry go just yet). But now I have a computer (thanks to my best friend temporary_fix) (read her stuff?) and I think my writing is at a much better place than where I started, so I'm looking forward to writing the next one(s). 
> 
> I hope that maybe I'm getting better at happy endings?
> 
> The quote Harry writes at the end is from a poem I've loved for a long time called "Mouthful of Forevers" by Clementine Von Radics and its 500% worth a read. 
> 
> On deck in the parallel story of how Liam met his dark and mysterious stranger (the promised Ziam fic) so, maybe you'll all stick around and see what else I have in me? 
> 
> Thank you all.


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